


Song of Exile

by TheWonderTwins



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alfrid really isn't better tho, BAMF Bilbo, Bard yells, Bilbo is a writer, BotFA, Covers all three movies and beyond, Dragon Sickness, Dwobbit, F/M, Family Reunions, Fili is amused, First gift, Get Together, I'd say no one dies, Letters from Home, Marriage, Master of Laketown is a greedy bastard, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poor Bilbo, Sick!Bilbo, So is Bard, Thorin is bad at communicating, Thranduil is an ass, Thranduil less so, Unplanned Pregnancy, ambassador!Bilbo, and feelings, and much less fun, and then use their mouths for other things, at all, bilbo has... stirrings, but lots of fun, but so is Thorin, but strictly speaking, but they love a good story, clinging to the side of a barrel while riding river rapids is also Not Recommended, concerned princes are concerned, cultural differences!, do not annoy healers, dwarves are not modest, dwarves are rowdy, dwarves don't like elves, girl!Bilbo, hooray for made up dwarven words!, it doesn't go well, life goes on - Freeform, long fic, mostly at Thorin, not very good dinner guests, oh no! azog!, prolonged exposure to evil in Not Recommended, riddle games, that isn't true, they use their words like adults!, trolls are also horrible dinner guest, turns out elves don't care much for dwarves either, unlawful arrest!, yay eagles!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-02-04 17:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 88,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12775476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWonderTwins/pseuds/TheWonderTwins
Summary: Unbidden, an image of the green hills and farms of the Shire alight with flame came to her mind. The hobbits would have no chance against such a disaster, and any who survived would likely never recover. She couldn’t imagine the strength and sheer stubbornness required to survive the devastation of a dragon’s attack and subsequent exile. And to want to go back! To face the beast that stole so much, destroyed so much, for just thechanceto restore what was lost…“I’ll go.” She declared as the song faded.





	1. A Party Assembles

It is generally accepted that a hobbit in good standing and good fortune would be in want of a family. The same is also generally true of a hobbit not in good fortune. However it is widely acknowledged that while a hobbit of no small fortune, Bilberry Baggins was not a hobbit in good standing. This is not to imply that young Miss Baggins was unliked, indeed, she had many fine friends in the Shire and in Bree. Which, really, was rather the problem.

Too much Took, they said. Not very Bagginsish to go outside the Shire so often. Whispers never said to her face, though regrettably within earshot as hobbits are horrible gossips by nature. Bilberry didn’t let those murmurings bother her though.

How else was she supposed to sell her books?

Writing was Bilberry’s joy in life, along with her prize winning tomatoes, and she felt it was exceedingly Bagginsish to be so keen on the written word. Her father had lauded books, stories, and poetry and the wonders to be found on a page. Her mother loved travel and adventure. Bilberry honored both with her chosen profession, and no matter that she had to use a nom de plume--Bilbo Baggins indeed--and no mind to the increased whispers of spinster she heard in the market as she passed. 

Bilberry Baggins was perfectly happy, thank you very much.

A shadow blocked her light, disrupting her relaxing morning as she enjoyed a pipe. Cracking one eye open to investigate, the second eye quickly followed as she gazed up and up and up the very tall figure blocking her light.

A man, though he carried a sense of… more about him. Grey cloak, grey beard, grey hair, large grey hat, and a gnarled staff, the man was very odd looking to be sure. He eyed her in return, one bushy grey eyebrow raised expectantly. 

“Good morning.” She offered.

“What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”

What an odd fellow.

“All of them at once, I suppose.” She said. When the man made no further comment nor moved to leave, she added, “Do I know you?”

“You remember my name though not that I belong to it.” He told her. “I am Gandalf.”

A slow smile came across her face. “Gandalf the Grey. I do know you. It has been some time since you ventured into the Shire. What calls you back now?”

“I am looking for someone to share in an adventure.” He shared conspiratorially.

An adventure with Gandalf the Grey. Just like Belladonna used to do. She couldn’t say the idea held no appeal. Still… an adventure with the wizard would likely take her far from home for quite some time. No telling where to, and if she asked she didn’t think she’d get a straight forward answer. Not from a wizard.

“You’re not likely to find anyone this side of the River looking for adventure. Asking a hobbit to leave the Shire, indeed. You’d find more volunteers to shave their feet.” She told him calmly.

“Indeed?”

“Oh yes. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things adventures. Make you late for dinner.” She took a draw from her pipe to hide her smirk. “No respectable hobbit would indulge in one.”

Gandalf looked her over in her breeches and waistcoat, smoking her pipe of Old Toby with her ink stained fingers and smiled. “Is that right? It seems to me I need to find a sensible hobbit then. I don’t suppose you could point an old man in the right direction?”

“Certainly not.” She tutted. “A wizard though, yes a wizard would do well to look for a hobbit that goes by Bilbo Baggins.”

“That settles it then.” Gandalf smiled. “My dear, I do believe this will be good for you, and quite amusing for me.”

“Probably.” She agreed. “Care to tell me about this adventure then?”

“All in good time. For now I have to inform the others, and eh…” His hesitance brought her to stand, tapping out the ash in her pipe. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, the journey ahead is a long one, I believe one final home cooked meal would be most welcome.”

She gave him an impatient glare. “How many will it be for supper then?”

“Fourteen, including yourself.”

Good thing Bag End was so large.

“Very well. I shall need to get to the market I think.” She began to go through a mental list of what she was currently running low on and what she’d need for such a large meal. 

“We will see you for supper then, Master Baggins.” Gandalf winked and let her go about making preparations. 

The pantries at Bag End were well stocked, but fourteen was a rather large crowd for supper and her respectability may be in question for her adventuring, but certainly not for her hostessing. She picked up a few essentials from the market and then made her way back home. She stopped by the Gamgee’s on her way to speak to Hamfast about her upcoming departure. He was kind enough to look after her garden on her prior trips to Bree, and was more than happy to do so again, though she informed him that she would be gone quite a bit longer than normal this time. Once that was decided, she continued home. 

In the moments between preparing the next dish or storing the last, she packed a little. She left all dresses and the like in her closet. Traveling in such frippery was ridiculous and she didn’t mind breeches. She had several pairs for when she had to be Bilbo Baggins, so she packed all of them. She didn’t know how long the journey would be, but clothes for seven days would do and if she had to wash them, so be it. In addition to clothes, she packed her mother’s bedroll and travel blanket, a waterskin, bandages, rope, and a journal, quills, and ink. 

Then it was back to cooking.

As supper approached, she set the table--she’d had to move it to make room for fourteen--and made final preparations. One or two last checks proved everything to be in order, so she went to freshen up. She made sure no trace of the day’s labors remained on her skin or clothes, and then, as a final touch, she piled her hair into the complicated style that hid her true length. She’d perfected it once she realized the necessity to be Bilbo Baggins outside of the Shire, though the idea that a male hobbit couldn’t also have long hair boggled her mind a little. When it was done, she appeared to have jaw-length, if voluminous, hair rather than the tresses that fell to just past her shoulder blades when they were down. 

The bell jingled at the door, pulling her away from her reflection.

Expecting Gandalf, she opened the door with a smile. The dwarf on her doorstep was a surprise. A large, tattooed, armed and armored surprise. Her heart raced a little at the sight. 

Just what sort of adventure had she agreed to?

“Dwalin. At your service.” 

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours.” She almost used her real name to introduce herself, but Gandalf had called her Master Baggins when he said to expect them for supper, and she thought it best to follow along until instructed otherwise. Using her nom de plume inside the Shire was new, but then, so was having a dwarf to dinner. 

Dwalin stepped inside and handed her his coat. “Which way is the food, lad?”

“Just through there.” She gestured as best she could with an armful of cloak. She managed to hang it up by the door before making her way to the dining room. 

Dwalin had already made himself at home, eating with gusto. She poured him an ale, quite unsure what to say, but other than a gruff “Thank you.” Dwalin seemed content to say nothing as well.

The bell rang again.

She dropped down from her perch on the counter to go answer. Another dwarf greeted her with a kind smile behind his white beard. 

“Hello, Master dwarf.”

“Balin, at your service laddie.” 

“Bilbo Baggins at yours.” She let him in. “There’s supper in the dining room if you’d like.”

“Very kind of you.” He smiled again, stepping inside. 

She closed the door behind him and turned to lead him to the dining room. When Balin saw Dwalin, he chuckled and greeted, “Oh! Evening, Brother!”

“By my beard,” Dwalin smiled, “you’re shorter and wider than last we met.”

“Wider, not shorter.” Balin corrected. “And sharp enough for both of us.”

They embraced before slamming their heads together. Bilberry winced in sympathy, but the two brothers seemed completely unfazed.

“Come, there is plenty of good food.” Dwalin pulled his brother into the dining room and she excused herself after pouring ale for Balin, not wishing to intrude on their reunion. She returned to her perch on the counter, out of the way.

“Are you not going to eat yourself, laddie?” Balin asked gesturing to the large spread on the table after a few minutes. 

“A host cares for guests first.” She explained. “I’ll eat once everyone else has.”

Dwalin chuckled. “You’re not likely to find food left if you wait for thirteen dwarves to finish first.”

The doorbell rang again, demanding her attention. She apologized for leaving the conversation and made her way to the door.

Two dwarves stood on her doorstep this time, much younger than the two inside. 

“Fili,” said the blonde.

“And Kili,” added the brunette. 

“At your service.” They finished. 

Definitely brothers. 

“You must be Master Boggins.” Kili said.

She shook her head. “Baggins. Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

Both hurried inside. Kili immediately began exploring while Fili sauntered inside. He turned to Bilberry and started to disarm, handing her his various weapons, “Careful with these, I just had them sharpened.”

“It’s nice, this place. Did you do it yourself?” Kili asked, inspection apparently complete.

“No, my father built it for my mother.” She told him, burden of weapons still increasing, so she couldn’t move when Kili lifted his boot to begin scraping off the mud onto her mother’s glory box. “Scrape mud onto that and I won’t give you any dinner.” She scolded fiercely.

Kili lowered his boot, cowed expression on his face. “Sorry.”

“Some guest you are, brother.” Fili teased him, finally done with his weapons. 

She set the collection carefully on a small table by the door and then led them both through to the dining room. “Food’s this way gentlemen.”

“Most excellent.” Fili cheered.

She winced at the mud they tracked in, but she could clean it later. Dwalin took the young brothers off her hands as soon as they entered the dining room, leaving her free to answer the door when it rang for the fourth time. 

Only fast reflexes kept her from winding up under a pile of dwarves as they fell through her doorway as she opened the door. She sidestepped neatly and glared up at a chuckling wizard still standing outside. 

“Gandalf, really.” She chided as she helped pull dwarves to their feet. 

“It’s alright.” A dwarf with a floppy hat grinned, dusting himself off. “They’re a ridiculous lot. He can laugh if he wants.”

“Speak for yerself Bofur.” Another dwarf grumbled. 

“Gentlemen,” she smiled, “dinner is just through there. Make yourselves at home.”

She shot a hand out to catch Gandalf as he passed. “Not you. I’d like a word, please.”

“What’s troubling you my dear?”

“You did not tell me I’d have thirteen _dwarves_ for dinner, Gandalf. I nearly had a heart attack when Dwalin arrived. What adventure could possibly needs so many… weapons?”

The most danger she faced traveling to Bree was the occasional drunk or careless rider, and Belladonna had never mentioned traveling with more than just Gandalf and one or two elves. Dwarves were built for battle, every one of them trained in weaponry and… kind of intimidating. 

Well. Maybe not Fili and Kili. 

“All in due time.” Gandalf promised. “We’ve not all gathered yet, and I believe it would be prudent to eat while there is food remaining?”

She sighed but nodded. She’d get her answers eventually, there was simply no rushing a wizard. 

Bilberry snuck in among the crowded table to grab a plate; she’d been munching all day as she cooked, so she wasn’t ravenous but she still gathered a respectable portion for herself. Fili handed her a mug of ale as Kili pulled her down to sit. She did also get the names of the other dwarves from Fili and Kili while the company decimated her food. She went through each of them in her head again and again until she was fairly certain she had them memorized. If she didn’t get it right away, she was sure she’d figure it out eventually though.

“This food is delicious!” Kili praised. 

“Thank you.” She said graciously. 

“We should save uncle a plate.” Fili suggested. 

“Aye lads,” Balin agreed. “A fine idea.”

Fili and Kili quickly pulled pieces from every dish, Fili going so far as to hop up on the table to gather things out of reach. She dismayed at the display, but her protests went unheeded. When Fili eventually sat back down, she greeted him with a severely unimpressed glare. The blonde just grinned, unrepentant. 

The table manners of the dwarves in general left something to be desired, and, with a frown, she gave up trying to correct them. Try as she might to remain irritated at the whole affair though, the merriment of the gathered dwarves did seem to be contagious. She found herself cheering along with the others as the very round dwarf, Bombur, caught an egg tossed by Bofur in his mouth with ease. She drank with them as they chugged their ale, though not with the same enthusiasm, and laughed along with the others when little Ori won the subsequent belching contest. 

Slightly appalled at her acceptance of such behavior, she quickly tried to distance herself from them by leaving the table. She watched from her perch against the doorway as the meal continued, making sure to mitigate the damage where she could. For the most part though, she just watched shaking her head at their antics.

As the meal wound down, Bilberry gathered the dishes only to have them plucked from her hands, “What--”

“Allow us!” Fili smiled before _throwing_ her plate at his brother. 

Soon plates and mugs and bowls were tossed about between the dining room and the kitchen! 

“That is my mother’s West Farthing china, it’s over a hundred years old! What--”

Soon other dwarves--led by Bofur, with the floppy hat--started banging on the table with the cutlery, striking them together in a rhythm. “Don’t do that! You’ll blunt them!”

“Oh, didja hear that lads? He says we’ll blunt the knives.” Bofur grinned.

It seemed to be a signal of some kind because Kili started singing, soon followed by his brother and then the others. All the while dishes were tossed about and cutlery was banged against the table. The song was impressively coordinated since the lyrics were entirely impromptu, but seeing as it made her the punchline of the joke, she was less inclined to find it funny. No matter how catchy it was.

When it was done she gave a relieved little giggle when she saw that all of her dishes were not only in one piece, but sparkling clean. 

“Oh yes, very funny, giving your host a heart attack.” She shoved Kili and Fili trying to force herself to frown. 

They all continued to laugh though, and she rolled her eyes before joining in.

A knock at the door silenced everyone’s cheer. 

“He’s here.” Gandalf announced quietly.

This was probably Fili and Kili’s uncle, but she was surprised by the sudden shift in manner from everyone. She made her way to the door with Gandalf, and she didn’t protest when the wizard opened the door. She expected another dwarf, but she expected him to look more like the others.

He did not.

He didn’t seem to carry an ounce of extra weight on him, though the armor and overcoat might have hidden that. She doubted it though. He stood straight and proud even though everything around him was just on the wrong side of too small, and his keen piercing blue eyes seemed to take in everything. Black hair with just a touch of silver at the temples, a close cropped beard--unlike the other dwarves--and an exceptionally carved face. 

He was… impressive. 

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to require her to speak much as he addressed the wizard. 

“Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way twice,” he stepped inside, “I wouldn’t have found it at all if it weren’t for the mark on the door.”

“Mark? There’s no mark on that door, I just painted it last week.” She slipped passed the newcomer to look at the door.

“There is a mark, I put it there myself this morning.” Gandalf told her.

She galred. “Was that truly necessary? A sign wouldn’t have sufficed?”

Gandalf ignored her question. “Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.” 

“So, this is the hobbit.” Thorin circled her slowly. “Tell me Master Baggins, have you done much fighting?”

“Fighting?”

“Axe or sword? What is your weapon of choice?”

She was rapidly losing her awe of this dwarf. “I prefer a rapier wit to fighting, though I do have some skill at conkers if you must know.”

“Thought as much.” Thorin smirked, turning to his company. “He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.”

Burglar? What in Yavanna’s name… 

“We saved you dinner!” Kili jumped up, distracting his uncle from Bilberry’s scathing glances and into the dining room.

She caught Gandalf once more and demanded, “Now _what_ is this about?”

“Yes, it is time.” He ushered her to the other room.

Thorin took a seat at the table and the company gathered in their seats around him. Bilberry didn’t have a chair anymore, but that was fine, she’d happily surrender the last chair for a guest. She would have happily let Thorin eat his plate, but the others seemed a touch more eager. Balin launched into questions before Thorin had taken more than a few bites.

“What from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?”

“Aye,” Thorin sighed, “envoyes from all seven kingdoms.”

This seemed to be good news as all the dwarves cheered quietly in approval. Then Dwalin asked, “What did the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?”

She saw the reluctance in Thorin’s face, but he answered truthfully nonetheless, “They will not come. They say this quest is ours, and ours alone.”

“This is more than an adventure then, you’re going on a quest?” Bilberry asked over the disappointed murmuring.

“Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light.” Gandalf requested in lieu of an answer. As she fetched a candle, the wizard pulled something out of his cloak and spoke, “Far to the east over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak.”

The map he spread out in front of Thorin was old, beyond anything Bilberry possessed in her father’s study, and it seemed to completely draw Thorin’s attention.

“The Lonely Mountain.” She read. 

“Aye,” one of the redhaired dwarves rumbled. Gloin, if she remembered correctly. “Oin has read the portents and the portents say it is time!”

“Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it has been foretold.” Oin confirmed. “‘When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.”

That last bit caught her attention. “What beast?”

“Well that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible.” Bofur informed her dutifully. “Chiefest and Greatest Calamity of our Age. Airborne firebreather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks; extremely fond of precious metals.”

“Yes, I know what a dragon is.” Bilberry stopped him. Even this far west, the name Smaug was known.

“I’m not afraid,” Ori announced, standing, “I’m up for it. I’ll give him a taste of dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!” 

She smiled and toasted him while one of the others cheered, “Good lad Ori.” Though his brother Dori yanked him down, disapproving. 

“The task will be difficult enough with an army behind us.” Balin brought the focus back to the realities of the quest, “but we number just thirteen. And not thirteen of the best, nor brightest.”

Offended outcry from some of the others at that, but eventually Fili slammed his hand on the table and announced, “We may be few in number, but we’re fighters! All of us! To the last dwarf.”

“And you forget we have a wizard in our company!” Kili picked up. “Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time.”

“Oh, well now…” Gandalf floundered. Bilberry hid a smile behind her cup at his sudden nervousness. “I wouldn’t say--”

“How many then?” Dori asked.

“What?”

“How many dragons have you killed?”

When Gandalf didn’t answer, more debate amongst the dwarves erupted. Only Thorin remained silent, though not for long. Eventually he brought order back to the table when he shouted “Enough!” Every dwarf shut up and sat down, looking to their leader. “If we have read these signs do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread, the dragon Smaug has not been seen in sixty years. Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?! Du Bekar!”

He knew how to inspire his men, she’d give him that. The dwarves cheered and shouted affirmatives, seemingly all objections or concerns fell away under the impassioned speech.

Except Balin. “You forget the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain.”

“That my dear Balin,” Gandalf objected, “is not entirely true.”

If Bilberry thought the map had grabbed Thorin’s attention, the key that the wizard produced ensnared it. It was wrought of iron and its angular design marked it as clearly dwarven in construction, but it was larger than she would expect a normal key to be. 

Thorin could not tear his eyes away from it. “How came you by this?”

“It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safe keeping.” Gandalf supplied. “It is yours now.”

Thorin took the key with reverence when Gandalf handed it to him.

“If there is a key, there must be a door.” Fili stated.

Gandalf nodded and pointed to a section of the map with the end of him pipe. “These runes speak of a passage to the lower halls.”

Kili grinned, “There’s another way in.”

“If we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed.” Gandalf sighed heavily. “The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it, but there are others in Middle Earth that can.”

If anyone other than those gathered at her table would have the knowledge, Bilberry would put her coin on the elves. From what her mother told her, the elves in Rivendell had a vast library filled with ancient texts on nearly every subject. And of course, the elves themselves were long lived, some thousands of years old, surely one of them might know as well. She would have offered her suggestion, but it didn’t seem like Gandalf was done speaking. 

“The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage, but if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done.” The wizard declared.

“That’s why we need a burglar.” Ori offered.

“A good one too.” Bilberry agreed idly looking at the map over Thorin’s shoulder. “An expert I’d imagine.”

“And are you?” Balin inquired.

What? Oh. _Oh._ “Me? No. I’m not a-- Gandalf is this really why you asked me to join?”

“Hear that lads, he says he’s an expert.” Oin announced to much cheering. 

“I’m not a burglar. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.”

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Master Baggins,” Balin shook his head. “He’s hardly burglar material.”

“Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.” Dwalin added. 

Bilberry knew they were agreeing with her, but she was still starting to feel a little insulted. The dwarves all started discussing the matter--loudly--and she wasn’t sure what she’d done up to that point to earn such loyalty from some of them, but Fili, Kili, Bofur, Bombur, and Ori seemed to believe she was perfectly suited and capable of stealing her way inside the mountain. The others disagreed, of course, and it devolved rapidly into an argument. 

“Enough!” Gandalf shouted, standing and gathering his power around him like a physical presence. “If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar then a burglar he is.” 

Bilberry despaired for her dining room’s structural integrity, but the extra height and magic Gandalf used to make his point diminished quickly when he had everyone’s attention. He continued in his normal voice, “Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustom to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him which gives us a distinct advantage.”

At that, Bilberry tried to object, but she was summarily ignored. 

Instead, Gandalf turned to Thorin and said, “You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Master Baggins. There’s a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he has a great deal more to offer than any of you know. Including himself.”

To her surprise, no one spoke up an objection, though a few of the dwarves were looking at her with a more critical eye. She couldn’t claim what Gandalf had said was entirely wrong, after all, she was hiding something from them, but she didn’t think being able to disguise herself as a male hobbit really made her burglar material. 

“You must trust me on this.” Gandalf pleaded, directly addressing Thorin once more. 

“Very well, we’ll do it your way.” Thorin relented. “Give him the contract.”

Balin stood and pulled a stack of folded paper--the contract presumably--from his coat. “It’s just the usual summary of out of pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, and so forth.”

Thorin took the contract who then handed it to her. 

“Funeral arrangements?” She clutched the contract when it was shoved in her chest. No one made further remark on it though, so she stepped into the hall with more light to read it over, muttering aloud as she went. “Cash on delivery up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit if any--seems fair--present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to… lacerations, evisceration? Incineration?”

“Oh aye, he’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye.” Bofur nodded cheerfully.

Well. It was one thing to think about dragons and the damage they could cause abstractly, it was another to have it spelled out in context of oneself. She felt a little light headed all of a sudden.

“You alright laddie?” Balin asked, smirking, the bastard. 

She took a few deep breaths to clear her head, admitting, “I feel a bit faint.”

Bofur stood, and for a moment she believed he was coming to help her, but instead he leaned in and offered, “Think furnace with wings.”

She didn’t quite have the wherewithal to glare at him like she wanted to, still feeling dizzy, and he was _not helping._

“Flash of light, searing pain, and then poof, you’re nothing more than a pile of ash.”

She took one more deep breath to try to steady herself, but it just wasn’t enough. “Nope.” She said and then fainted.

She came to in a chair by the fire, Gandalf standing over her calmly. 

“Well that was embarrassing.”

“I believe such a reaction was Bofur’s intent.” Gandalf assured her. “Dwarven humor.”

She harrumphed, annoyed, but the matter at hand brought her to admit, “Gandalf… this adventure is quite a bit bigger than me.”

“It is bigger than all of us.” Gandalf agreed seriously. “Events are unfolding, my dear, and I do believe if we do not get ahead of them now, we may never get the chance.”

“What do you mean?”

Rather than answer, the wizard smiled and shook himself free of his dour thoughts, relaxing. “Nothing to worry about, just the ramblings of an old man.”

“Gandalf…” She wasn’t fooled.

“This adventure will be good for you, and good for them.” He ignored her concern. “I daresay it will not work without you.”

She raised an incredulous eyebrow, “I’m hardly as important as all that.”

“You are the daughter of Belladonna Took.” Gandalf whispered insistently. “No greater clan exists in all the Shire. Look at your great great great great uncle Bullroarer Took. Did you know, he was so large, he could ride a real horse.”

“I did, yes.”

“Well he could, and in the Battle of Green Hills he charged the ranks of goblins and knocked the goblin king’s head clean off with his wooden club. It sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole. And so the battle was one, and the game of golf invented in the same moment.”

She stared at the wizard as he fought off a grin. 

“I do believe you made that up.”

He waved her off. “All the best tales deserve a little embellishment, as I think you know.”

“That would be the Baggins in me,” she reminded him. “Also a great clan of Hobbits.”

“Of course.” Gandalf said sincerely. “The two greatest families of the Shire came together to give _you_ to the world. Took adventurous and caring spirit and Baggins steadfast resolve. I for one look forward to seeing what you can accomplish.”

The heat in her cheeks meant she was blushing. Or the fire was too hot. She stood, partially to get away from the fire, partially to regain control of herself. Ridiculous wizards and their gift for flattery. She paced, thinking. Earlier she’d agreed to go on this adventure, excited for the chance to see the world a little, to go off with Gandalf like Belladonna always talked about, but this… dangerous seemed too small a word for this quest.

Her pacing was stalled when she bumped into her end table. Someone must have moved it when they placed her in the chair. She steadied it with a hand, catching the book that nearly flew off in the tussle. It was one of hers, she noted, as she brushed her fingers over the embossed leather. A story she’d taken and modified from one of her mother’s tales of adventure. 

“You’ll have a tale or two yourself when you come back.” Gandalf smiled.

“Can you promise that I will come back?”

“No.” He said honestly. “And if you do, you will not be the same.”

“If I come back.” She whispered. If they let her come back, she thought. As a Baggins and a Took she was given leniency for some of her less respectable habits, but this was not a business trip to Bree, and she was leaving with thirteen dwarves. _Male_ dwarves. Her reputation would be completely ruined, she’d have no standing in Hobbiton after such a scandal. She was a Baggins of Bag End! She couldn’t just--

_“Far over the Misty Mountains cold,_  
_From dungeons deep, to caverns old,_  
_We must away, ere break of day,_  
_To find our long forgotten gold.”_

The depth of emotion in the song and voices of the dwarves pulled her from her thoughts. She followed the tune to her sitting room where all the company had gathered. To her surprise it was Thorin who was singing. She hadn’t expected such… longing and ache to be so apparent in his voice. He seemed so stoic and surly; this display of open vulnerability was unexpected. 

Then the others joined. 

_“The pines were roaring on the heights,_  
_The wind was moaning in the night,_  
_The fire was red, its flaming spread,_  
_The trees like torches, blazed with light.”_

Unbidden, an image of the green hills and farms of the Shire alight with flame came to her mind. The hobbits would have no chance against such a disaster, and any who survived would likely never recover. She couldn’t imagine the strength and sheer stubbornness required to survive the devastation of a dragon’s attack and subsequent exile. And to want to go back! To face the beast that stole so much, destroyed so much, for just the _chance_ to restore what was lost… 

“I’ll go.” She declared as the song faded. 

Bebother the consequences! Neither Belladonna nor Bungo would forgive her for being so selfish to deny these dwarves the chance to reclaim their home. And for what? Fear? Societal acceptance and standing? She was a Baggins of Bag End! Wealth and status were all well and good, but _family_ was what mattered to Bungo Baggins. People. Not things. No. Her father would tell her to help these dwarves. 

She accepted the contract from Gandalf and signed it before she could change her mind. 

“Welcome aboard, Laddie.” Balin smiled as he took the contract. 

“We leave at first light,” Thorin announced to everyone. “Rest while you can.” 

“Right.” Bilberry straightened her clothes, stepping into host mode once more. “Bag End has several guest rooms, but not enough for everyone, I’m afraid.” 

“We’ll be alright on the floor Master Baggins.” Bofur smiled cheerfully. 

“Nonsense.” She frowned. “At the very least, those beds that are available should be put to use. You’d not deny an object its purpose, would you?” 

Eventually, after much grumbling and debate, Gandalf took her parent’s old room as it had the biggest bed. Thorin was given a room with his nephews--princes! They’d failed to mention that before--and the last room went to Balin and Oin as the oldest of the company. The others used her couches and chairs along with their bedrolls to claim their spots. She offered the use of her room, but everyone flatly refused, so she left it alone. 

She bade everyone goodnight once they were all settled and went to bed. Everything was packed with the exception of some herbs to halt her moon blood. She’d gather it in the morning, not looking forward to several months of it, but the idea of bleeding on the road was decidedly less pleasant than the eventual discomfort when she stopped using the herb. 

With so many thoughts in her head, she found it difficult to fall asleep, so she hummed the lullaby her mother used to hum to her when she was a fauntling. She allowed the melody to calm her nerves as it used to and drifted off to sleep. 


	2. The Journey Begins

The next morning she woke to Gandalf tapping on her door. She dressed quickly and gathered her pack before meeting the dwarves. She decided to assist Bombur with breakfast by surrendering the last of her smoked meat to the menu, and she found that a depressingly few number of the company could be considered morning people. 

“Where’s Dwalin and Balin? They’ll miss breakfast.” She asked. 

“Seeing to the ponies.” Ori told her behind his tea.

“Ponies?” She started. 

“Of course.” Gloin grumbled. “Did you think we were walking to Erebor?”

Yes. Yes she had thought that. To hide her embarrassment, she excused herself to collect her herbs from her garden. Thankfully it was not yet dawn, few hobbits would be awake to witness her departure, though she was certain they’d put it together exactly who she left with easily enough. It wasn’t as if most of the Shire didn’t already know she’d hosted thirteen dwarves last night, nosy neighbors were a given in Hobbiton after all. Sighing, she finished gathering everything of use, not just the herbs for her bleeding, and put all of it in her pack. 

That is where Fili and Kili found her. She could hear them arguing as she gathered herbs, but they waited until she was done before finally asking, “Is this you?”

She looked. Fili held up one of her books, one of her oldest publishings. “Did I write it, you mean?”

They nodded.

“I did, yes. I’m a writer by trade.”

“I knew it!” Kili cheered. “Mum is going to be so jealous.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

“Our mother enjoys your work. “ Fili explained. “She said your tales are better than Men stories because your hero is a woman.”

She’d, in fact, modeled the character after her mother. “I had no idea my books made it all the way to the Blue Mountains.”

They nodded again. “Uncle gave mum her first one for her nameday a few years ago.”

“Said he thought she’d like them since it wasn’t one of those rubbish romance stories.” Kili added.

She blinked. “Your uncle read them too?”

More nodding. 

Well. He certainly hadn’t acted like he’d recognized her name--nom de plume--but that was interesting. She hadn’t pegged him for a reader. Which… wasn’t fair. She didn’t know him, didn’t know any of them. She should reserve her judgements and assumptions of their character. 

She smiled at the brothers. “What about you two?”

“Fili has.” Kili nudged his brother. “He likes to read.”

“But you don’t.”

The princeling shrugged. “No offense.”

“None taken.” She mimicked his shrug. “Now. Curiosity satisfied? Shall we begin the quest?”

She walked with the company to the stables at the edge of Hobbiton. Dwalin and Balin were ready with a small herd of ponies and each of the dwarves seemed to already know which one was theirs because they all went to a beast and climbed up. There were a few left without a rider, though two appeared to be laden down with packs, so she guessed the third was supposed to be hers. She’d never ridden a pony before, she didn’t think she’d be able to get into the saddle as easily as the dwarves had. 

“Problem, burglar?” Thorin asked, frown firmly in place.

“I can just walk, it’ll be fine.” She offered.

Thorin ignored her and gestured to someone behind her. Suddenly she was in the air as Fili and Kili lifted her up onto her pony. She glared at them but they weren’t intimidated. She retreated to the back of the line with the wizard, happy at least that her pony was being cooperative despite her fumbling. 

“Perfectly capable of walking.” She grumbled quietly. “Hobbits are built for walking.”

“The ponies will be faster,” Gandalf told her serenely, “and dwarves are not built for walking.”

She sighed, resigned, and tried to get better situated on the pony. The predawn light was hardly adequate for travel, in her opinion, but no one seemed to have trouble seeing anything, and the party navigated the roads out of the Shire without trouble. Meanwhile, Bilberry couldn’t see more than a few ponies in front of her. Dwarves, not built for walking, but apparently built for seeing really well in the dark. Which made sense when she thought about it. Eventually though, as it did every morning, the sun rose and she was able to see clearly once more. 

She recognized the road they were on as the one that would lead them to Bree. She traveled it every time she made the journey to the town as it was the safest path to take. Estimating on how far they’d traveled already, she believed they’d reach Bree a few hours before nightfall. 

“Gandalf, if I may?” She inquired quietly. At his nod, she continued, “When I said to look for Bilbo Baggins, I was, for the most part, teasing. Why didn’t you tell them their burglar,” she threw him a very unimpressed look at the title, “was well…”

“A woman?” 

“Precisely. It might be difficult to hide that fact forever, you realize.”

“With luck we will be too far along for them to send you home before the truth comes out.” Gandalf told her. “Dwarrowdam are far too uncommon, you see, most do not leave their mountains, and I am afraid a journey such as this would be far too dangerous for them to consider taking one along.”

“But hobbit females aren’t uncommon at all.” She protested.

“I know you are aware of how different races view females, you created the character Bilbo Baggins for that very reason, and while dwarves do not consider females to be less capable, they are still protected. It is simply their culture, my dear.”

She could accept that, she supposed, but still. “Lying to them still seems a foolish idea.”

“You haven’t lied. You are Bilbo Baggins; that name belongs to you as much as Bilberry does.” Gandalf reasoned. 

Before she could protest, they were joined by Ori, Kili, and Fili. “Master Baggins!”

“You don’t have to be so formal, Ori.” She said kindly. “This journey will force familiarity upon us before too long, I’m sure. Best to just get it out of the way, yes?”

“Bilbo,” the young dwarf tried, “Fili and Kili mentioned that you were a writer by trade.”

“I am.” She smiled. She’d seen Ori with a journal in his hands more than once already, and she was delighted to have a kindred spirit. 

“Ori is a scribe back home.” Fili told her.

“We thought you two might get along.” Kili added. 

“A fine thought.” She agreed. “Tell me Ori, do you enjoy stories?”

She found it was easy to talk to the three youngest dwarves. She found them less intimidating than the others, to be sure, though once she started on a tale of her mother’s adventures--one she hadn’t penned down--she found she’d also gathered the attention of Bofur and Bombur. So the hours went by with the small group trading tales and stories. Some were old tales passed down, others were from daily life in Ered Luin, but she enjoyed listening as much as telling, no matter the grandness of the tale. 

They did stop in Bree, arriving a few hours before nightfall as she’d suspected, and she was more than happy to get out of the saddle for a time. Gandalf advised he would find lodging at another inn so to lessen the suspicion upon the group. A caravan of dwarves might be draw a few eyes, but a caravan with a wizard would certainly draw attention. When Thorin moved them to the Prancing Pony, Bilberry excused herself from the lads and made her way closer to the front of the company. She knew the innkeeper fairly well from her previous trips to Bree and wanted to say hello. If she were lucky, her usual room would be available too. 

“Greetings Master Dwarf.” Kellor addressed Thorin. He seemed less at ease than he normally did, though she couldn’t imagine why. “What can I do for you?”

“Rooms for the night if you have them, for me and my company.” Thorin requested. “And dinner.”

Kellor glanced out the window to the gathering and hesitated, “Not sure I’ve got enough space for so many.”

“We do not require individual rooms, just a few will be fine.” Thorin tried. 

Kellor nodded. “I’ve four rooms available; twenty silver.”

“Twenty silver?” She objected. It was half again as much as what she expected given her previous stays. 

“Eh, now who is that to-- Oh! Master Baggins, I didn’t see you there.” Kellor apologized. “Are you… with this dwarf and his fellows then?”

“I am.” She stated. She could feel Thorin’s gaze boring into the back of her head, but it was too late to step aside now. She knew Kellor, had known him for years, and she was certain that she could clear up whatever issue the innkeeper seemed to have. She leaned forward a bit, smiling, inviting Kellor to share in a secret. “I know they’re an intimidating lot,” she admitted, “but that’s rather why I hired them. You see, I’m selling my next book a bit further from home than I normally go, and the roads aren’t always the safest.”

“Aye,” Kellor agreed easily, “and certainly no place for a hobbit.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Bilberry conceded, “but regrettably I must, so what was I to do? I’d ask the Rangers, but they’ve more important work to do that escorting a hobbit. As luck would have it though, I found myself a small caravan of dwarrow headed the same direction as myself on their way home to travel with instead. They’ve been very accommodating; a fine group to be sure.”

Kellor had started nodding along as she spun her story, and she could see him relax, adopting the easy posture she was used to seeing on him. “Right smart of you, Master Baggins, to travel with company, and if you vouch for them, I can see about giving you your regular rate.”

“Much obliged, Kellor.” She bobbed her head in a bow, smile still firmly in place. 

“I’ll have Nessa ready the rooms then.” 

Kellor turned away to find his wife, allowing Bilberry to turn back to Thorin with a small apologetic smile. “Do forgive me; I had to say something.”

“Quick thinking lad,” Balin praised, clapping her on the shoulder. 

“So it seems.” Thorin said. “It is done and will do us no good to counter it now. Balin, inform the others. Master Baggins and I will see to the rooms.”

Balin nodded and left, leaving her with Thorin. She honestly couldn’t tell if he was upset that she’d bargained on his behalf or not, his face had had that pinched look on it since they arrived, so it might not have been her actions that put it there now. While she might have asked one of the lads or Bofur what was bothering them in such a situation, she did not know Thorin, was not sure such questions would be welcome or answered, and she didn’t have the time to ask regardless. Nessa was making her way to them. 

“Master Baggins,” she smiled brightly, “I’ll be switched! Kellor said it was you who’d come but I didn’t believe him; we weren’t expecting you for another season at least.”

“Surprised the both of us.” Bilberry put back on her confident face. “I’ve recently learned that my books have made their way all the way to the Blue Mountains, if you can believe it.”

“I can.” Nessa led the two of them through the dining hall with ease. “Excellent stories travel far after all.”

“Thank you, that’s kind of you to say.”

“It’s the truth and you know it.” She winked. “Now, who is this you’re traveling with? Kellor said you’d contracted a group of dwarves; one doesn’t seem much of a group.”

“The rest of the caravan is seeing to the ponies, they’ll join us shortly.” Bilberry told her. “I tell you, they may be faster, but ponies are not much to my liking.”

“Oh,” Nessa teased lightly, “I’m sure it’s not so bad.”

“Horse hair, I’ve been sneezing all day.” She complained. 

Thankfully, Thorin remained a silent presence over her shoulder. She managed the occasional glance over her shoulder when Nessa wasn’t looking, but the dwarf merely looked at her passively when their eyes met. He seemed to relax minutely as they continued, but it was hard to tell.

“That’s dreadful. Shall I send you up a bath tonight?”

“That sounds lovely, Nessa.”

“I’ll have it in your room by end of supper then.” Nessa promised. “It’s venison stew tonight, by the way; should have more than enough for everyone.”

They arrived at Bilberry’s regular room and Nessa handed her the key and long with three others. “Alright, you’ve the rooms in this hall then. Is there anything else I can get you before supper?”

“No, I think that will be everything.” Bilberry pulled her coin pouch out of her coat and passed Nessa fifteen silver, enough for the rooms and dinner, as well as a little extra for a tip. She curtsied politely and left them to their rooms. Bilberry opened the door to hers first and wilted when she remembered it only had the one bed. She never shared a bedroom with other travelers for obvious reasons, so her regular room at the Prancing Pony was a single, which meant the dwarves would have to split themselves up in the three remaining rooms rather than the four Thorin had originally requested.

“I’m sorry, I should have remembered it was a single--”

“It’s fine, Master Baggins.” Thorin smiled. “You’ve managed to get us lodging at fair price and diverted attention from our quest. You need not apologize.”

She ducked her head to hide the flame in her cheeks, “In that case, happy to help.”

To be safe, they checked the other rooms as well. Each had four beds, if not much else, but they would serve. She handed the keys to Thorin and he handed her coin for the rooms. She tried to refuse, but he insisted with a stubborn look. She ultimately accepted the repayment and they made their way downstairs to the dining room where the rest of the company was waiting. 

Bilberry and Thorin joined the other at the table to many boisterous cheers. Apparently Balin had relayed the encounter with the innkeeper to the others, painting her as a hero. She tried to wave off their accolades; she wasn’t a hero. She just knew the owner. Dinner passed without disruption and without flying dishware, though a drinking song or two was played to the enjoyment of the whole room. As the evening wore down, Thorin calmed the others with a gesture and addressed them quietly. 

“We’ve three rooms, four to a room. Decide amongst yourselves the arrangements.”

“I thought there were four rooms.” Kili frowned. 

“The fourth room is Master Baggins’ alone.” Thorin explained. 

“That leaves one of us without a bed.” Gloin grumbled. 

He was correct, and worse, the rooms were crowded enough that sleeping on the floor would be nearly impossible. She felt bad before about taking one of the rooms, but now it was intolerable. There was plenty of room for an extra cot or bedroll in her room, she’d have to share with someone. Instinctively, she rebelled at the thought, it wasn’t proper to share a room with a man she wasn’t married to, but she’d be sharing the road with these dwarves soon enough and such concerns were rather ridiculous. 

“I can have Nessa bring a cot into my room. There’s no need for someone to sleep on the floor and get stepped on.” She offered.

“That’s right generous of you.” Bofur toasted her with his mug.

Before anyone could protest, Nessa arrived to tell Bilberry her bath was ready. She thanked the woman and then requested a spare cot be brought up when her bath was done. She could see the curiosity burning behind Nessa’s eyes, but she passed her a few copper and sent Nessa on her way before she could ask. 

“Excuse me,” she smiled as she climbed out from her seat at the table. 

Bilberry dashed up to her room and locked the door as she entered, eager to wash away the day’s travels. She set her clothes aside and let her hair down before sinking into the tub with a happy groan. It would likely be her last hot bath for a while and she planned on enjoying it.

When she was clean and the water cool, she got out and dried off with a towel. She glanced at her clothes from the day and hesitated. She didn’t want to put them back on, but it seemed silly to put on a clean set so close to bed. Silly or no, she decided, she didn’t want to wear dirty clothes after getting clean, so she put on a clean set and then unlocked the door. Nessa waited on the other side, ready with the cot and a few lads to take the tub away. She thanked them again for the trouble and saw them out. 

Sighing, Bilberry pulled the towel off her head. She’d had to hide her hair while Nessa was in her room, and the towel seemed the easiest solution. She lamented the necessity of hiding her identity, but she could do nothing about it. 

A knock at her door sent her diving for the towel she’d just tossed aside. “One moment!” She threw the towel over her head and then opened the door. 

“Bofur.” She was surprised to see the cheerful dwarf. 

“Mistress Nessa said the cot was set up, so I figured I’d come on up.”

She let him in, “Drew the short straw did you?”

“I jumped at the chance,” he told her, “anything to get away from Bombur’s snoring. Still may hear it in here, but at least there’ll be a few doors between us to muffle it some.”

“Well, then. You’re welcome.” She chuckled, dropping the towel. 

Bofur whistled, “Where did all that come from?”

“I put my hair up outside of the Shire because Men have a limited view of masculinity.” She huffed. “I’ve been reliably informed that I look like a lass when my hair’s down.”

“Aye, I can believe that.”

She sat on the edge of her bed, brushing her fingers through her curls for something to do. She could feel Bofur’s eyes on her still and she fought the urge to flee. She’d told Gandalf it was foolish to lie, it was inevitable they’d figure it out, but they were still too close to the Shire. If the others decided they didn’t want to travel with a woman she’d be sent back and there likely wasn’t a thing she could do to stop them. The risk to her reputation would be for naught, and--according to Gandalf--the quest would fail. She couldn’t let that happen.

“Keep going like that and you’ll not have any hair left to hide.” Bofur warned her, pulling her out of her panicked thoughts. “What has you so nervous then?”

The urge to tell him the truth was almost too much. She liked Bofur, he was funny and an excellent story-teller, and though she’d only known him a day, Bilberry thought of him as a friend. Even if he had teased her about the dragon. 

She dropped her hands to her lap and sighed, “Can you keep a secret?”

“Probably, if I try.” Bofur grinned cheekily, leaning back on his heels. 

“You’re not inspiring confidence.” She scolded lightly. 

“Alright, alright.” Bofur yielded. “I promise, whatever it is, short of treason, your secret is safe with me.”

She sized him up, tried to see if she could see any insincerity in his face, but all she saw was Bofur. Guileless, cheery Bofur. Uncertainty still itched under her skin, but she knew this particular secret would be handled better coming directly from her rather than just finding out. Rallying the last of her resolve, she said, “My name isn’t Bilbo Baggins. Bilbo is just a nom de plume I use when I write because no one would buy a book written by a woman.”

“Well there’s a twist.” Bofur stroked his moustache.

She winced. “I didn’t want to lie. I told Gandalf it was foolish to try to keep it a secret, but he thought that it was better to have you all believe I was a man at least until we were far enough from the Shire that Thorin couldn’t send me home.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that.” Bofur told her. “You signed a contract, lass. I’m not sure he could send you away, though he may try. Stubborn that one.”

“You think the contract will be enough?” She tried not to sound too hopeful. 

Bofur shrugged, “It’s binding, though Thorin has the right to terminate it if he has good enough reason. Which this isn’t.” He added quickly. “You certainly haven’t been a hinderance.”

“Yet.” She sighed. “Once we’re truly on the road, that could change.”

“You’re resourceful. I think you’ll be fine.”

“Hopefully your faith is not misplaced.”

“I’m sure it isn’t.” Bofur turned serious then. “Now. I’ve a question for you, and I want you to answer me honestly.”

“Of course.” She sat up straight, willing to answer whatever he wanted. 

“What’s your name?”

She smiled. “Bilberry Baggins, at your service.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Bofur bowed at the waist as best he was able from his seated position. 

She waved off his silliness and stood. “I’m making some tea before bed, would you care for a cup?”

“No thanks, I’m not much for leaf water.”

She sputtered at the vastly oversimplified descriptor and swatted at the dwarf as she went to the fireplace. Once she had her tea, she added her herbs to it and drank it down quickly. The taste left something to be desired, so she made another cup to follow. Bofur kept up a string of chatter about his brother and cousin while she sipped, content that he wasn’t treating her differently from this morning. When she was done, she bade him goodnight and settled into bed.

Gandalf met them on the road as they set out from Bree the next day, though she very purposefully did not wish him a good morning, simply saying hello instead. The twinkle in his eye told her he knew exactly what she was doing. 

That day she rode in the middle with Bofur and the Ri bothers. She happily spent the morning discussing tea with Dori, amused when Bofur gave her a betrayed look. Ori pulled her into a conversation about poetry near lunchtime, though they wisely stayed away from elvish works after Dori and Nori both grumbled at the first mention. She made a mental note to talk to Ori about it later though. Nori, she found was very quiet, though not in the same way Ori was quiet. Bilberry didn’t believe for one second that Nori was shy, instead, it seemed to her that his silence was deliberate. He was observant though, and she found intelligence in his assessing gaze whenever it landed on her. She didn’t know quite what to make of him, and she suspected he preferred it that way.

By the time they made camp for the night she was sore from riding all day, but otherwise content. She enjoyed talking to the dwarves, and the land surrounding the road out of Bree was lovely to look at. 

Bilberry helped Bombur with dinner, happy to discuss recipes with the cook as the worked. The others left them to it, going about setting up camp. Bofur was kind enough to set up her bedroll for her when he set out his own. When dinner was over and everyone settled into their bedrolls to sleep--except Fili and Kili who had first watch--Bilberry slipped over to where the ponies were corralled to sneak Myrtle an apple. Such a patient animal deserved a treat. 

Howls echoed in the distance and ice raced down her spine. Her head shot up and searched in vain for the source. “Are there wolves out there?”

“Wolves? Those are wargs.” Fili said.

“Aye, but it’s not the wargs you have to worry about.” Kili added.

“It’s not?”

“Of course not,” Kili smirked. 

“It’s the orcs that are the real danger.” Fili explained, also smirking. “The throat cutters that slip into your camp at the dead of night and,” he drug his thumb across his throat helpfully. 

“Blood everywhere. Terrible business.” Kili agreed. 

She knew they were teasing her, and she was going to tell them off for messing with her, but Thorin beat her to it. “You think a night raid by an orc pack is a joking matter? You know nothing of the world.”

For a joke--poor taste though it was--his reaction seemed a bit excessive. She was considering telling him off when Balin stepped in.

“Don’t mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs.” Balin explained seriously. She expected him to leave it at that, but the older dwarf took a deep breath and wove a somber tale just loud enough to carry over the crackling fire. Hearing Balin speak of the battle for Moria, seeing his king killed, the royal family all but destroyed, Bilberry ached for him and for Thorin even though she did not know him well. She understood his hatred for the orcs.

But then Balin smiled, proud, eyes shining, and continued, “That is when I saw him. A young dwarf prince, facing down the pale orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armor rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield. Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back, our enemy had been defeated, but there was no feast or song that night for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived, and I thought to myself then: There is one I could follow. There is one I could call king.”

The story had pulled the others from their beds and all the company was awake by the end, looking to their leader with a new sense of respect and awe. She saw it on the faces of the younger ones especially and knew her own probably matched. Hobbits had no kings or great warriors, but listening to Balin tell the story of Thorin Oakenshield, she could see how one might inspire a people and command loyalty. 

Thorin rejoined the company by the fire, touching a shoulder, an arm, something to each of the dwarves recognizing their support for what it was and thanking them silently. No one said anything, even Fili and Kili were silent. The atmosphere was less tense than before, but still not easy as it had been. There was nothing Bilberry could say or do to make it better, she had no frame of reference for loss that great or vows of unflinching loyalty, but just going to sleep seemed wrong, dismissive.

At a loss for anything else, she hummed, sitting next to the fire. The melody always calmed her down, and she didn’t think the dwarves would mind as long as she did it quietly. 

“That’s lovely. Does it have words?” Kili asked, just as quiet. 

“No. It’s just a tune my mother used to sing.” She told him.

“Have you considered putting words to it?” Fili asked. 

She shrugged. “Never found the right ones I guess.” She stretched and wandered back over to her bedroll, ready for sleep at last. “Goodnight Highnesses.”

“Night Bilbo.”


	3. Trouble With Trolls

The next several weeks passed much the same as those first few days. She’d speak with various members of the company--mostly Fili, Kili, Ori, and Bofur--about many subjects, though hearing the dwarves talk about their memories of Erebor was possibly her favorite. When the road was too unsteady or too uncomfortable for conversation (like when it rained for three days straight) she sat quietly on Myrtle’s back and observed the land, enjoying the way the scenery changed the further they traveled. Most nights she helped Bombur with dinner or Dori with tea, and when she was assigned watch it was always with either Bofur or Thorin himself.

Those were interesting nights. At first the king had been reserved, but she wore him down with tea. When she made her nightly cup, she also made one for Thorin--without the extra herbs--and gradually he relaxed. 

One night, a couple weeks outside of Bree, he asked, “Did you know your books have actually made it to Ered Luin?”

She smiled, “I did. Fili and Kili told me their mother is an admirer.”

“Dis is not a woman easily pleased,” Thorin confided, “but she enjoys your tales. If she’d known you’d be with us, I do not believe I could have kept her from joining as well.”

“I thought your dwarrowdam didn’t travel.”

“Sometimes they must, and some of our women are traders, merchants. Not many, granted, and those that are prefer to disguise themselves as dwarven men as a precaution.” Thorin informed her. “We do not keep our women locked away in the mountain, if that is what you imagined.”

“Of course not.” She frowned. “From what your nephews have told me, I do not believe anyone would survive the attempt to lock the Lady Dis away against her will.”

Thorin chuckled, “True enough.”

“So let me see if I understand,” she grinned, “it’s not that dwarven women don’t travel, it’s that people don’t recognize them as being dwarven women?”

“Outsiders rarely wish to learn of our ways, it is much easier for them to make assumptions.”

“Valar, tell me I haven’t been an oblivious outsider. None of the company--”

“No.” Thorin promised. “The company holds no dwarrowdam in its ranks.”

Not that that wouldn’t have been poetic, but she was glad she hadn’t missed something like that. “Good to know I haven’t made a fool of myself.”

“Other than fainting upon reading the contract.”

She ignored the blush heating her cheeks and sipped her tea. “Other than that, yes.”

Nights like that were dangerously comfortable. She occasionally found her thoughts wandering to their fearless leader during the day, admiring and wistful. When she caught herself, she would find something to distract her. Fili and Kili or Bofur were usually well suited to that endeavor, although getting Gloin to speak about his family was absurdly easy as well. 

As they moved into week three, Gandalf spent more time at the head of the line talking with Thorin about something. Whatever it was, it seemed Thorin’s mood soured whenever it was discussed. Finally their argument came to a head as the company was making camp near an old, ruined farmhouse. Personally, Bilberry agreed with the wizard that this might not be the best place to camp, but Thorin obviously disagreed. She couldn’t hear the whole argument, but she did hear the end of it when Gandalf stormed off. 

“Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves!” 

“Is everything alright? Gandalf, where are you going?” She asked. 

“To seek the company of the only one around here with any sense.”

“And who’s that?”

“Myself Master Baggins! I’ve had enough of dwarves for one day.”

Bilberry wasn’t sure if she was more insulted or concerned. Still, never rush a wizard. He’d be back eventually. In the meantime, there was dinner to make and a camp to set up. She tried not to worry about it.

By nightfall when Gandalf still hadn’t returned, Bilberry was having difficulty suppressing her concern. “He’s been a long time.”

“Who?” Bofur asked. 

“Gandalf.”

The dwarf scoffed. “He’s a wizard, he does as he chooses.” He handed two bowls of stew to her. “Do us a favor and take these to the lads.”

She accepted the bowls and made her way to where the ponies were corralled. Stepping up between Fili and Kili she felt a new wave of uncertainty and nerves wash over her. 

“What’s the matter?”

“We’re supposed to be looking after the ponies,” Kili stated, lacking his normal boisterous tone. 

Fili too was missing his regular smirk, “Only we’ve encountered a… slight problem.”

“We _had_ sixteen.”

“Now there’s fourteen.”

She counted the herd and concluded they were right. Two were missing. “Spread out, see if they’ve just wandered off.”

They nodded and began to walk the area around the ponies. It didn’t take long to see they were truly gone rather than just away, and the uprooted tree didn’t bode well either. 

“Daisy and Bongo are missing.” Kili determined.

“That’s not good.” She frowned and gestured to the uprooted tree, “and that is not good at all. Shouldn’t we tell Thorin?”

“Er… no.” Fili dismissed. “Let’s not worry him. As our official burglar, we thought you might want to look into it.”

She laughed nervously but gave it a shot, “Well, uh, something big uprooted these trees.”

“That was our thinking.” Kili agreed.

“Something very big, and possibly… quite dangerous.” She couldn’t think of anything in the area that could do this though. 

“Hey,” Fili pointed ahead. “There’s a light. Over here.”

Kili followed his brother as they crept closer to the light, leaving Bilberry no choice but to follow, to keep them from doing something stupid if nothing else. The three of them ducked behind a fallen tree to get a closer look at the campfire ahead. She could see shapes--large shapes--but not much detail. 

“What is it?”

“Trolls.” Kili launched himself over the tree followed shortly by Fili, once again forcing her to follow. 

As they stopped in their new hiding spot, movement to their left drew her attention. A troll ambled by carry two ponies under his arms like they weighed nothing. 

“They’ve got Myrtle and Minty!” She seethed. That was _her_ pony! “I think they’re going to eat them, we have to do something.”

The brothers turned to her and nodded, “Yes.”

“You should.” Kili pulled her closer to their hiding spot and took one of the bowls of food. “Mountain trolls are so slow and stupid and you’re so small they’ll never see you!”

“That’s a terrible plan.” She hissed.

“It’s perfectly safe,” he vowed, “we’ll be right behind you.”

Fili pushed her forward taking the other bowl, “If you get into trouble, just hoot twice like a barn owl, once like a brown owl.”

“You’re both ridiculous.” She groused, but edged her way forward regardless. “Twice like a barn owl, once like a brown owl is _so helpful_ when I don’t think I’ve heard either in my life.”

She could hear the trolls talking as she got closer, discussing the positively revolting smelling stew cooking over the fire. Thankfully they were too focused on that to notice her as she snuck into their camp and over to the ponies. They were being kept in a pen tied together with rope thicker than her arm and she had to shush them to keep the trolls from looking her way. Bilberry gave the knots a try, but she couldn’t work loose ropes she could barely grip.

Then she noticed the knife at one of the troll’s hips. If she could cut the rope, she could get the ponies out before the trolls knew what happened, and then the company could ride far, far away to safety. 

First she had to get the knife. 

Even the few steps closer to the trolls was enough to make her eyes water, the smell was atrocious, but she crept up behind the one with the knife and started to reach for it. After nearly being grabbed twice by the repulsive creature, she decided she’d never get the blade free. There had to be another way.

She considered the ponies then. Myrtle, Minty, Daisy, and Bongo all still had their saddlebags. Someone might have stashed an extra knife in one. Sneaking back over to the shadier corner, she ducked between the wooden beams of the fence, dodging scared pony hooves as she went. She started with Daisy since Dwalin always seemed to have a surplus of weapons, but found nothing. Bongo, Bombur’s nag, was next and thankfully carrying an extra knife. She gave the beast an affectionate pat and then made her way back to the ropes. To get a good angle, she climbed up onto the fence quietly, and then began to cut at the rope once she had a firm seat.

Bilberry wasn’t sure if she’d made a noise or if it was just bad luck, but before she could finish with the rope, one of the trolls spotted her and plucked her from the fence. 

“Wha’ is this?” The troll shook her at his fellows. “Somfin was tryin’ to get our nags!”

“Never seen nofin like it.” Another said, poking her with one large finger. “Wha’ are you?”

“Annoyed.” She snapped. She was so close to cutting the damn rope and getting out free and clear, but _no_. Now her options were be killed by trolls or rescued like a damsel by the company.

“Wha’s an oied?” The dumber one asked. “Can we eat it?”

“Ain’t more’n a mouthful.” The one holding her complained.

“Any more oieds sneaking about?” The one that poked her asked.

“No. No. I promise there are no oieds in the woods.” She managed not to roll her eyes. Trolls really were impressively stupid. 

“I still say we eats it.”

The troll holding her yanked her to his chest away from the others. “I’m the cook here, _I_ say what we eats an’ don’t eat.”

“Try it Bert; see if it’s good.”

“Alright.”

She struggled, trying to get her arm free at least so she could stab the troll, something. Eaten by troll was not her chosen way to die, thank you very much. The troll didn’t even notice her wriggling, he brought her to his gaping maw and then _licked_ her from chest to crown.

Oh, it was _worse_ than being eaten.

“Tha’s nice tha’ is.”

“Give us a taste then!” The dumb dwarf stepped up, reaching for her.

In her terror, she didn’t notice at first that someone else had jumped out of the trees. Then the dumb troll squealed and crashed to the ground, and she saw Kili--brave Kili, sweet Kili--standing, sword raised.

“Drop him!”

“You wha’?”

Kili swung his sword with surprising ease considering his primary weapon was the bow, “I said, _drop him._ ”

The troll threw her at Kili, and she was grateful that the dwarf dropped his sword to catch her. He then rolled so that he was on top, protecting her from the charging company pouring out of the trees. When the last of them were in the fight, he jumped to his feet, pulled her up, picked up his sword, and then joined the fray.

She picked up the knife she’d borrowed from Bombur’s gear and made her way back to the ponies. She would be no use in the battle raging around the fire, but she could rescue the damn ponies. She finished sawing her way through the rope at last and threw the gate open to let the ponies loose, happy to see they headed straight for the dwarf camp.

“Oi!” 

She turned in time to see the big troll that had her earlier reach for her again. She swiped at him with the knife, but he ignored the minor graze and picked her up once more. “Let go of me!”

He lumbered up to the less dumb troll and together they held each of her limbs. “Stop!”

They had the dwarves’ attention, and all fighting stopped.

“Bilbo!” Kili was pushed back into line by Thorin, who eyed the trolls menacingly.

“Lay down your arms, or we’ll rip his off!” The troll ordered.

Mere heartbeats went by, but it felt like an eternity before Thorin and the others dropped their weapons. All it accomplished was the capture and trussing up of the dwarves. The trolls shoved them into burlap sacks, herself included, and threw them in the now vacant pen. Then the trolls built up the fire and set up a rotisserie to slow cook them, choosing half the bunch to go on the fire _still alive._

This was was the _worst._

“Don’t bother cookin’ ‘em, we should just sit on ‘em and squash them into jelly.”

“They should be sauteed and grilled, with a nice sprinkling of sage.” The biggest of the bunch countered, and Valar save her, they were _still_ arguing about how to cook their dinner.

“Nevermind the seasoning’, we ain’t got all night. Dawn ain’t far away, let’s get a move on. I don’t fancy bein’ turned to stone.”

Stone… oh, that gave her an idea. 

“Wait!” She called, “You are making a terrible mistake.”

“You can’t reason with them, they’re halfwits!” Dori yelled above the fire.

Bilberry ignored the bickering of the dwarves and hopped to her feet. “I meant with the seasoning.”

“What about the seasoning?” The big one leaned down.

“Have you smelt them?” She gestured to the dwarves. “You’re going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up.”

She hopped a few feet away to avoid the kicks from the other dwarves near her as they yelled at her. 

“Wha’ do you know about cooking dwarf?”

“Shut it! Let the oied talk.”

She smiled brightly at the troll, “The secret to cooking dwarf is, um…”

“Yes. Go on!”

“The secret is…” The only thing that came to her mind was a brace of conies, since it was the only meat she’d prepared herself. Giving herself a mental shrug, she went for it. “Is to skin them first!”

Outrage from the dwarves was nearly louder than the trolls, “Tom, get me filleting knife.”

“Wha’ a load of rubbish!” The other troll challenged. “I’ve eaten plenty wif their skins on, boots and all.”

To her left, she saw movement. Gandalf! And the sun, she just needed to stall a little longer.

“He’s right.” The dumb one agreed, walking over to the pile of sacked dwarves. “Nofin wrong with a bit of raw dwarf.” He picked up Bombur and brought the dwarf to his mouth.

“No! Not that one! He- he’s infected!”

“What?” 

“He’s got worms in his… tubes.”

The troll dropped Bombur with a cry of disgust. Excellent.

“In fact, they all have. They’re infested with parasites, it’s a terrible business.” She lamented. “I wouldn’t risk it, I really wouldn’t.”

“We don’t have parasites!” Kili shouted, offended, and the others joined in his yelling. They were going to _ruin_ her stalling tactic if they didn’t shut up! She turned and glared at them, but it wasn’t until Thorin kicked them that they caught on.

“I’ve got parasites as big as my arm!” Oin claimed, and the others followed suit, trying to best each other’s make believe worms.

Satisfied at least that they were cooperating, she turned back to the trolls. 

“What would you have us do then? Let ‘em all go?”

She made a considering face, “Well…”

“You think I don’ know wha’ you’re up to?” The troll shoved her. “This little ferret is taking us for fools!”

“The dawn will take you all!” Gandalf shouted, timing as impeccable as ever, and slammed his staff down onto the stone blocking the dawn light, cracking it in half. The trolls screamed and tried to get away from the light, but it was too late. They turned quickly into stone.

The dwarves cheered once the trolls stopped moving and Gandalf made his way over to Bilberry to untie her. Once she was free, she set about releasing the others trapped in sacks while Gandalf took care of the fire.

Once everyone was free, Bilberry sat down heavily at the base of a tree and gave her mind a moment to catch up with what had just happened. While it was happening, she’d been fine, but she figured now that it was done, she’d have trouble with it. All she really felt was tired though. And disgusting. She could still smell the troll spit on her. 

“Bilbo.”

She cracked an eye open. “Kili, are you alright? No injuries?”

“I’m fine.” He knelt down. “What about you?”

“Tired. Dirty. Not hurt though.” 

“We just wanted to say we’re sorry.” Kili told her.

Fili came up on her right, settling down next to her. “Kee’s right. We shouldn’t have sent you in there alone.”

“I knew you had my back.” She said seriously. “And you did. Saved me from being troll food.”

“You saved us right back. I think we’re even.” Fili told her.

The two sat with her, content to take a breather while the rest of the company gathered themselves. Slowly the others dropped by to check on her or thank her; she smiled at them all and told them the same thing. She was tired but fine. Bofur pulled her into a hug, thanking her profusely for saving Bombur and checked her for injuries. The only one who didn’t check on her was Thorin, but he was busy talking with Gandalf.

Their conversation seemed to yield results because Thorin ordered a search of the area. They found a cave the trolls had been using and Bilberry flatly refused to step foot inside. She could smell it from where she stood several feet away and it was enough to make her gag. She waited with most of the company while Gandalf, Thorin, Dwalin, Bofur, Gloin, and Nori went inside. They weren’t inside for too long, but long enough to come out with treasure; the new sword Thorin held was beautiful even from a distance. 

“Bilbo,” Gandalf called, “here, this is about your size.”

He handed her a sword, and she held it weakly in both hands, most unwilling to accept its charge. “I can’t take this.”

“The blade is of elvish make which means it will glow blue with orcs or goblins are nearby.” Gandalf elaborated, making no move to take the sword back.

“I have never used a sword in my life.” She reminded him. 

“And I pray you never need to.” He sighed. “But if you do, remember this: true courage is not knowing when to take a life, but when to spare one.”

Bilberry still hesitated. A sword, a real sword rather than a knife, was an altogether foreign tool. She’d never used one, never even held one before Fili dropped his arsenal into her arms upon his arrival at Bag End. In truth, she felt more likely to injure herself than any opponent. 

A hand clapped her on the shoulder and she turned to Fili and Bofur as they joined her. “That’s a fine little dagger isn’t it?” 

“Good. About time you had a weapon.” Kili added on her other side.

“I can’t--”

“Come now, Bilbo. You wouldn’t deny an object its purpose, would you?” Bofur smirked. 

She glared at him, but relented and strapped the sword to her belt with a little difficulty.

Sudden bird flight and the rustling of trees brought everyone to immediate attention. Dwalin pulled her back into the center of the company as the rest readied weapons to face whatever threat came out of the woods. She pulled her new sword out of its sheath, relieved when she saw it wasn’t glowing. 

Bursting from the undergrowth, a sled pulled by large rabbits nearly collided with the company, and the man on the sled was shouting about murder and thieves, not making much in the way of sense. He stopped catching his breath when he was in the middle of the group, though he still looked confused and desperate. He was an altogether odd looking man.

“Radagast!” Gandalf greeted warmly. “Radagast the Brown, what on earth are you doing here?”

Another wizard, apparently. He spoke to Gandalf urgently about warnings and trouble, but he wasn’t making any more sense using complete sentences than he had before. After he pulled a stick bug out of his mouth, Bilberry gave up trying. She put her sword away, as did most of the others, and allowed Gandalf and Radagast to discuss wizard business alone.

Some time later, a low, guttural howl echoed through the otherwise calm forest air. The small hairs on the back on her neck and arms stood at attention, and an insistent, primal need to run had her shifting uneasily. “What that a wolf?”

“Wolves? No, that is not a wolf.” Bofur grabbed his mattock and scanned the area quickly.

The snapping of twigs behind her was her only warning before a massive beast leapt at them from between the trees. Fili and Bofur pulled her out of the way and Dwalin met the thing with his axes, knocking it down. Thorin was quick to finish it off with a swing of his new sword, but another approached him from behind. As it jumped, Kili shot it over Thorin’s shoulder, staggering it. When it landed, Dwalin finished it off.

“Warg scouts!” Thorin pulled his blade from the dead warg. “Which means an orc pack isn’t far behind.”

“Who did you tell of your quest, besides your kin?” Gandalf demanded. 

“No one.”

“Who did you tell?!” 

“No one, I swear.” Thorin shouted. “What in Durin’s name is going on?”

“You are being hunted.” Gandalf informed him.

Bilberry frowned. Why would orcs go so far from their lands to hunt Thorin and the company?

“We’ve got to get out of here.” Dwalin growled. 

“We can’t!” Ori cried, coming up the path. “We’ve got no ponies, they bolted.”

“I’ll draw them off.” Radagast volunteered. 

Gandalf whirled on him, frustrated. “This are Gundabad wargs, they will outrun you.”

“These are Rhosgobel rabbits; I’d like to see them _try._ ”

Decided, the company waited for the wizard to lead the orcs away before running full speed out of the trees. Gandalf led the way, hopefully with an actual destination in mind, and the company followed. The game of chase with the rabbits nearly exposed their escape several times, so Bilberry was not surprised at all when an orc came investigating their current hiding spot. She tried to keep her panting quiet and valiantly restrained the urge to pull Kili back when Thorin silently instructed him to kill the warg and rider. Between Kili’s arrows and the company’s following assault, both warg and orc died, but not quietly. Their cover was blown.

“More running then.” Bilberry declared when the orcs turned their way.

They ran, but the orcs had them in their sights now and the company was eventually surrounded. Death by orc pack? Also not on her list of ways to die. She drew her sword and tried to mimic the way the others held themselves and their weapons. She would not go down cowering behind her friends; she would fight!

“This way, you fools!” Gandalf shouted, popping up behind a rock.

She started making her way to the wizard, never turning her back on the orcs in front of her. Bofur on her right, Thorin on her left, she made it to the hidden cave Gandalf had found. Bofur took her arm and slid down, pulling her along with him. She waited anxiously at the bottom for the others to follow, counting as dwarf after dwarf made their way to safety until finally Fili, Kili, and Thorin were the last ones down.

A horn rang across the field and she could hear the sound of battle above them. She didn’t know who could be up there, but if they were killing the orcs, she didn’t really care. The company seemed to be of a different opinion, however, when Thorin pulled out an arrow from a fallen orc.

“Elves.” He spat.

Dwalin found a path leading them further into the cave, but between elves and the unknown, the dwarves chose the unknown. Bilberry followed, unable to do anything else. Parts of the path were extremely narrow, forcing them to squeeze between the rocks, though at its widest it was still only enough for a single file line. She began to hear rushing water somewhere ahead and longed for a bath to scrub off the troll spit now dried on her clothes, skin, and hair, but kept her complaints to herself. Escaping was more important at the moment.

When at last they came out of the cave, she gasped at the sight before her. Nestled between the cliff and the river sprawled an elegant city of tree and stone. It was _beautiful._

“Rivendell.” She breathed. 

“This was your plan all along.” Thorin accused the wizard. “To seek refuge with our enemy.”

“You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield.” Gandalf snapped. “The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself.”

“You think the elves will give our quest their blessing?” Thorin challenged. “They will try to stop us.”

“Of course they will,” Gandalf agreed, “but we have questions that need to be answered.”

Thorin sighed and looked away from the wizard, when his gaze swept her way, Bilberry smiled encouragingly. Gandalf was right, they needed the elves help. Thorin gave the smallest of nods, reluctantly agreeing to Gandalf’s plan.

“If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact, and respect. And no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me.” Gandalf instructed and then led the company down the valley and into the city of the elves.


	4. Revelations in Rivendell

Up close, Rivendell was just as breathtaking; she could see the details in the moulding, the carvings and engravings of reaching branches and leaves arched to the sky almost looked real enough to move in the wind, and the river looked wonderfully inviting. 

“Mithrandir,” an elf glided down the steps of the city to greet them. He spoke to Gandalf in Sindarin, so Bilberry didn’t understand what was said. 

Gandalf, however, spoke common. “Lindir, we’ve come to speak to Lord Elrond.”

“My Lord Elrond is not here.” The elf stated in common.

“Not here?” Gandalf frowned. “Where is he?”

The horn they heard before sang through the air shortly followed by the sound of hooves on stone as the host of elven riders from the plains arrived in the city. Once more she was pulled to the center of the group by Dwalin as the dwarves closed ranks around her and the elves began to circle the company. 

Perhaps she’d underestimated the animosity on _both_ sides of this conflict.

Finally one of the riders called a halt, and smiled. “Gandalf!”

“Lord Elrond.” He smiled back and switched to Sindarin.

Elrond responded in kind, dismounting and coming forward to embrace the wizard. Then he switched to common, “Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders. Something or someone has drawn them near.”

“Ah, that may have been us.” Gandalf gestured to the company.

Thorin stepped forward then when Elrond turned his eyes upon the company. The elf lord seemed to recognize him, for he needed no introduction. “Thorin, son of Thrain.”

“I do not believe we have met.” Thorin stated.

“You have your grandfather’s bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain.” Elrond explained. 

“Indeed? He made no mention of you.”

Bilberry sighed. So much for tact, respect, and charm.

Elrond spoke once more in Sindarin, making the dwarves more and more uncomfortable with each graceful syllable. 

“What does he say? Does he offer us insult?” Gloin demanded.

“No, Master Dwarf, he offers you food.” Gandalf replied.

That was enough to get the company to put their weapons away and agree to go into the city proper at last. Lunch with the elves was an event, and went a long way to prove the dwarves had actually been on their best behavior at Bag End. After Bofur danced on the table, the drinking song bellowed at the top of their lungs, and the food throwing, Bilberry abandoned the hope that the company would improve the opinion of dwarrow to their host and just tried to dodge the flying edibles. 

After lunch, they were shown to guest quarters where they would be allowed to freshen up and relax before dinner. Her room had a bath. Sort of. It was more of a controlled waterfall, but it would get the job done. She excused herself from the company and hurried to the washroom where she proceeded to scrub the top layer of skin off. She also took care of her hair meticulously. She’d had it up for so long that it took coaxing, but she was patient and it was worth it. Once done, she dried off and went in search of her… pack.

Myrtle had her pack. All her clothes, her supplies, her _herbs_. Gone with the ponies. 

“Yavanna preserve me.” She moaned. 

She’d planned on burning her old clothes, but now it seemed they were the only ones she had left. Now, where…

A light knock at her door had her scrambling for the washroom. “No! I am not dressed, do not come in!”

“My lady, Lord Elrond sent me to deliver fresh garments for dinner while your old ones are cleaned.” The voice sounded female, probably, it was difficult to tell.

She caught the important parts of the sentence though. The elves had taken her last set of clothes and they knew she was a woman. Joy. Still wrapped in the towel--plenty big enough for a hobbit--she went and opened the door. The elf smiled serenely at her and held out a bundle of clothes.

“Thank you.” She accepted it carefully.

The elf bowed. “My lord wished to convey his welcome to the daughter of Belladonna Took in person, but important matters have delayed him. He hopes these garments are to your liking and he hopes to see you when his other duties are complete.”

She clutched the bundle tightly, hardly breathing for shock. “Thank you.” She said again, stiffly, and the elf departed with another bow.

Bilberry slipped back inside and closed the door. Elrond recognized her as Belladonna’s daughter. How? Had her mother been familiar enough with the elf lord for him to make the connection or had Gandalf told him? She wanted to know. Belladonna didn’t say she knew Elrond, but then she hardly named names. The adventure had been what mattered, not the number of powerful people she met along the way.

She’d ask Gandalf, though not at dinner. The dwarves probably wouldn’t approve of that conversation.

She unfolded the bundle on the bed and was pleased to see it wasn’t some elvish dress or other finery. It was a small collection of hobbit-sized clothes all made to fit a feminine figure rather than her old straight cut garments designed to hide her curves. She selected a cream colored shirt, pale blue waistcoat, and soft tawny brown breeches. They fit perfectly. 

Without other options, she chose not to make a fuss about it. She slipped out the door and almost ran into Bofur as he’d been preparing to knock.

“Was starting to think you’d drowned.” He teased.

“Cleaning my hair took a while.” She admitted. “Worth it though; I’d have been loathe to cut it.”

Bofur practically paled at the thought. “Best not even to think about it, Lass.”

She ran her fingers through the entire length of it to show him it was still there. “Still intact, I promise. So, what brings you to my door?”

“Thorin doesn’t want any of us by ourselves in enemy territory, as it were, and I offered to walk around with you.”

“Rivendell is not enemy territory.” She groaned and raised a hand to halt his comments. “No, don’t. I do not want to get into a debate about it.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Do you mind walking around with me while I run a few errands? I’ll have to talk to a few elves.” She cautioned.

“Aha, now you can’t scare me away, Lass. Lead on.” Bofur teased. 

She rolled her eyes but started down the way she’d been directed toward the healer’s wing. When she found it, she had Bofur wait while she went in, claiming she wanted a private discussion. A silly dwarf he may have been, but he wasn’t stupid. He caught on quickly and promised to wait for her outside. The healers inside were sympathetic, but they didn’t have the herbs she was looking for as elves didn’t need them. They were able to give her bandages though, and a satchel to carry them in. Disappointed, she left with a thank you.

Next she wanted to find a store or storage room she could take from. The company had lost a lot of gear when the ponies fled and she wasn’t sure Thorin would ask the elves for assistance replacing it. Luckily, she was able to find Lindir and ask him about their supply problem. The elf assured her that the company would have what they needed by the end of the day tomorrow, per Elrond’s orders. She hoped that would be enough, because she didn’t think she’d get the opportunity to debate what was needed with the elves.

“Errands done then?” Bofur asked as Lindir walked away.

“Yes, though I was hoping to find the library.”

He rubbed his moustache and nodded, “Maybe should have asked Stuffy Britches to point us in the right direction.”

Bilberry decided not to correct him for the name calling, and stubbornly did not ask the elf for directions. Instead she wandered in hopes of finding it on her own. Bofur was a cheerful presence at her side as they walked, and she was grateful that he’d joined her. She could have done all this by herself, but it was nice to have another with her as she went, even if he didn’t say much beyond the occasional off-color joke. 

They found the library fairly quickly, as it wasn’t too far from the guest quarters, and she went in eagerly. Books and more books, floor to ceiling, in beautifully carved shelves filled the room. She’d never seen so many in one place before. She probably stood there just taking it in for a few minutes, slack-jawed, and didn’t care. It was _wonderful._

“They say the great library in Erebor was even bigger than this one.”

She startled at Ori’s shy comment; she hadn’t even seen him. Instantly her amazement was replaced by worry. Her hair was down and her clothes did nothing to hide her figure, there was no mistaking her for a man at the moment. She hastily started to pull her hair back. “Ori, I…”

He shook his head with a small smile. “You don’t have to do that. I knew already, and I won’t tell no one.”

“Good lad.” Bofur clapped him on the shoulder.

Bilberry let her hair down and thanked him quietly before asking, “The dwarven library is bigger?”

“So they say; I’ve never seen it myself, and that dragon may have destroyed it, but…” He didn’t have to say it. If the library of Erebor was still intact, when they took the mountain back it would be a sight to see. A treasure trove of stories and histories locked away, stolen from the dwarves for a dragon’s want of a pile of gold, soon to be reclaimed.

“Most of these are in Sindarin, but a couple elves showed me the ones in common.” Ori waved her over to a bookshelf closer to the back of the room. She saw the two elves Ori mentioned sitting in chairs, talking quietly amongst themselves in elvish, so she ignored them as the young dwarf pointed her to a particular bookshelf. 

“Did you know they have your books here too?” Ori asked, pulling a book off the shelf.

She took it from him and saw that it was in fact one of her’s. “ _A River’s Congress_ by Bilbo Baggins. One of my newer works.” Well read too, judging by the state of the binding. She was certain that slack-jawed expression had made another appearance; why would her book be here?

“Pardon us,” the elves were looking at her now, “are you Bilbo Baggins?”

“Look at her Elladan, she has Belladonna’s eyes.” The other one declared. 

“I’m… sorry, did you know my mother?” She stammered.

“It is her!” The second smiled.

“I am Elladan,” the first bowed, “this fool is my brother Elrohir, and yes. We had the great pleasure of traveling with Belladonna Baggins nee Took when she came through Rivendell with Mithrandir.”

“Bilberry Baggins, at your service.” She responded breathlessly. These two were the elves from her mother’s tales. She’d called them Dan and Ro only, but the nicknames were necessary for a small fauntling to wrap her mouth around. Bilberry nearly dropped the book in her shock.

Ori carefully took it from her before it fell through her fingers and then shoved at Bofur until the dwarf moved. They didn’t go far, Bofur refused to go more than a few meters, but it gave the elves and Bilberry the illusion of privacy.

“Father said a hobbit had come with the dwarves, but we did not expect it would be you.” Elladan smiled. 

“Your father?”

“My Lord Elrond.” Elladan elaborate. 

“He probably thought we would try to find you among your companions if we knew.” Elrohir said.

“Oh?” Bilberry wished for her words to return and lamented their absence; now was not the time to be tongue tied.

Elladan smiled. “He was right, of course, but we won’t tell him that.”

“Definitely not.” Elrohir agreed.

They were the most animated elves she’d seen so far, unreserved in their gestures and faces alight with their joy and wide smiles. If she remembered correctly, these two were not very old by elven standards, perhaps around Fili’s age, so that might explain it. Or they could simply be very expressive elves. Either way, they quickly swept her up into an enthusiastic conversation about her writings compared to the real adventures they’d had with Belladonna. Thankfully, she did find her voice and was able to form real sentences, so she didn’t make a complete fool of herself.

Regretfully, their conversation lasted only an hour before the brothers were called away to other business, but they thanked her honestly for her writings and her time with them in the library. They missed Belladonna and meeting Bilberry had been a lovely reminder of their time with her mother. She thanked them as well and sat there, still a little stunned when they left.

“You alright, Lass?” Bofur asked, concerned.

She nodded. “Just… a little overwhelming.”

“You’re not gonna faint again, are ya?” 

She hit him, “And whose fault was that, eh?”

“I haven’t the slightest recollection.” Bofur smirked.

“Uh huh.” Her stomach growled then, reminding her it was time for dinner.

The three of them left the library in search of dinner, and Bilberry played with her hair, absently, trying to decide if she wanted to put it up or not. She’d had it up for so long, it was nice to just have it down for once, and she wasn’t sure if it was worth trying to hide any more…

“You gonna leave it down?” Bofur asked. “You’re not exactly the picture of masculinity right now.”

“When am I ever, really.” She sighed. “No. Recent events have rather put a stop to my cunning disguise.”

“How’s that?”

“She lost her herbs.” Nori said, appearing from _nowhere._

She jumped and nearly hit the dwarf in retaliation. “How the-- no, you know what? I’m not going to be surprised that you figured it out yourself.”

“Wasn’t difficult.” Nori whispered. 

Bilberry rubbed her temples. “Wonderful. Who else knows?”

“Oin, Fili and Kili.” Nori reported. 

Bofur laughed. “How’d those two figure it out?”

“They had their suspicions almost since Bree, but I think the battle with the trolls confirmed it for them.”

“Regardless, it’s past time I told everyone.”

“Piece of advice: start with Balin.” Bofur pointed to the elderly dwarf who was walking with his brother to dinner. 

“Holder of the contract, got it.” She increased her pace to catch Balin before he got to dinner. “Balin, can I see you for a moment?”

“What is it-- Oh.” Balin eyed her. “Yes, I think we should talk.”

At least he didn’t sound angry. Balin led her to a small alcove not far from the dining room and then turned to her expectantly. “Something to tell me, Bilbo?”

“Yes, ah… it sounds a little ridiculous when you’ve probably already guessed, but I’m sorry that I lied to all of you, letting you believe I was a man, but I’m not. Bilbo Baggins is a nom de plume I use when I write, but my name is Bilberry Baggins and I thought you should all know.” She muddled her way through her explanation, hardly daring to look at Balin’s reaction.

“Lass, normally I’d say it doesn’t matter, but there’s the not so small matter of the contract.” Balin cautioned. “If you signed it with a false name--”

“I didn’t!” She promised. “I signed it Bilberry Baggins.”

Balin raised a skeptical brow and drew the contract out of his coat. He brought her signature to his eye, examining it with a small eyeglass. After a few moment, he lowered both and looked at her. “Well. Masterfully done Mistress Baggins.”

She smiled when Balin did, relieved he wasn’t angry. “Thank you.”

“And thank you.” Balin squeezed her shoulder. “You’re a part of this company Bilberry Baggins; I’m glad to see you trust us enough with the truth.”

“Everything alright brother?” Dwalin asked, coming closer at last.

“Yes, quite alright. Mistress Baggins was just clearing something up for me.”

Dwalin nodded. “Good. Then we can eat.”

She blinked, stunned. Dwalin hadn’t looked at all surprised or confused. “Y-you knew. How did you know?”

“You hesitated when you introduced yourself, Lass.” Dwalin reminded her. “I’m part of the King’s Guard; it was enough for me to be suspicious, so I paid attention.”

“I see.” She frowned slightly. She hadn’t thought her near slip when they’d first met had been that obvious, but apparently it was enough for Dwalin. “I apologize--”

“No need. You’re not the first lass to hide herself while traveling, and you meant no harm.” 

“Ah, good.” Bofur greeted them at the entrance, rubbing his hands together in excitement. “This should be fun!”

Her friend’s cheer was not enough to still her nerves. There were still a few members of the company who didn’t know, including Thorin, and she wasn’t sure if it was better to get it all done at once or to tell each member individually. Too late now anyway. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders before walking in with Bofur, Balin, and Dwalin like there was nothing amiss. 

The company was all there save Gandalf, and all eyes turned to her as she arrived. Anxiously she watched each of their reactions. Bombur’s eyes widened in surprise, Bifur muttered something in Khuzdul, Gloin uttered a curse and passed his brother a coin, Oin saluted her with his winnings and a laugh, Ori smiled, Dori frowned, Nori was also watching the others, Fili and Kili cheered, and Thorin… she couldn’t decipher what that look meant, but he was staring at her intently. 

“This,” she made a gesture encompassing all of herself, “is not the oddest thing you’ve seen today, surely.”

“Aye, but you might be the best.” Kili grinned.

“And what’s my competition then? Trolls, wargs, orcs, and mess covered wizards?” She crossed her arms, smirking, “High praise that is, Master Kili.”

The dwarves laughed at Kili’s poor attempt at flattery, but the lad just took it in stride, pushing back when his brother shoved him. It did the job of easing the tension of the moment, though, and she was more grateful for that than for his praise. She sat between the brothers to get them to stop rough housing, accepting the plate of food Bifur handed her with a polite but genuine thank you. 

Fili stole a bit of bread off her plate. “So is Bilbo a girl’s name?”

“No, hobbit lasses are named after flowers and plants.” She explained easily, stealing a sausage off of his in return. 

“So what’s yours then?” Fili asked.

“Bilberry.” 

Kili frowned. “So you didn’t write those books?”

“No, I wrote those books, I just used a different name.”

“Why?”

“Because ladies can’t write books.” She stated. “Not according to Men, at least.”

“Why not?” Ori frowned in confusion.

Bilberry shook her head. “I don’t know. I never got a satisfying answer.”

That was met with a string of understanding grumblings and the topic was dropped.

For the most part, conversation during dinner centered around the normal topics and she was allowed to eat in peace, jumping into topics where she saw fit as usual. No one judged her or interrogated her for lying, and she was ready to believe that she’d be okay and no damage had been done to her relationship with the company over her disguise. 

Until Thorin caught her as the company departed for bed, “Mistress Baggins, a moment.”

She met his steely gaze only long enough to acknowledge that she’d heard him and then looked away. She waved off the concerned looks of her friends and forced a smile. She knew this was coming, she had a series of arguments prepared in her head for this very moment. Thorin Oakenshield would not intimidate her into leaving.

She met him in the same alcove she’d spoken to Balin in earlier. 

“The contract of employment is binding only if you use your true name in the signing.” The dwarf stated, arms crossed, every inch of his bearing like unyielding stone. 

When he looked like he was about to continue on that line of thought, she interrupted him. Horribly rude of her, she knew, but at the moment propriety would fail her where determination might not. She would not be sent home without a fight. 

“I _did_ , Balin has already verified it, so you cannot use that as an excuse to send me away. I am committed to this path, Thorin Oakenshield, by contract and by choice, and I will not be swayed!”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that so?”

He was trying to intimidate her. Well it wouldn’t work! A mighty dwarf lord and hardened warrior he may be, but she’d faced down Lobelia Sackville-Baggins on market day. He didn’t scare her. She brought herself up to her full height and stared the king under the mountain straight in the eye, unwavering, and declared with absolute conviction, “Yes. I will help you win back that mountain even if I have to fight you to do it.”

When he began to _laugh_ , she felt heat rise to her cheeks and her confidence stumble. How dare he laugh at her promises, as if she were not worth even the consideration! All those nights conversing with him while on watch, he never struck her as a dwarf to be so callous or so dismissive of loyalty. 

Her hand rose completely without her direction, but Thorin grabbed her wrist gently before she could do more. “Peace, Burglar. I did not mean to cause offense.”

“I find no humor in my oaths, nor did I believe they would mean so little to you.”

“That was also not my intent.” He assured her, gently running his thumb over the pulse on her wrist. 

She frowned, annoyed that her anger was leaving her so quickly, replaced with a focus on his skin against hers. “Speak plainly, then. What was your intent?”

“At first, I wanted to request you sign the contract with your true name if you had not already.” Thorin told her, releasing her wrist. “When you began to defend your place in the company, I found it amusing that you believed my decision to hire you had somehow changed with the revelation that you are a woman.”

“You were reluctant to hire me in the first place, and Gandalf said that dwarven women would not be allowed on such a dangerous journey, and the Men certainly don’t seem to think woman are capable of anything. Why shouldn’t I believe the same would be true here?”

Rather than address her, Thorin looked up just over her shoulder and smirked. “Gandalf said that, did he? I guess wizards do not know everything.”

An offended huff drew her attention to the wizard standing behind her. He eyed the two of them, particularly Bilberry’s loose curls and tailored attire, and sighed. “My dear, I do hope you know what you are doing.”

She was ready with a reassurance on her lips, but Thorin spoke before she had the chance. “I appreciate Mistress Baggins’ unwillingness to prevaricate for convenience's sake. It is refreshing.”

“Indeed, I find her ability to grasp delicate and complex situations to be most refreshing. Especially in present company.”

Bilberry huffed at the ridiculousness playing out before her. “Honestly, you’re worse than a pair of fauntlings. If we could redirect the conversation?” When neither objected, she continued. “Gandalf, I assume you are here to speak with Thorin, I will take my leave if you can both promise to behave like reasonable adults.”

“In that case, my dear, I think it may be best if you came along.” Gandalf said with a twinkle in his eye that she did not trust at all.

She rolled her eyes but acquiesced. Gandalf turned and led the way, expecting the two of them to follow without another word. Bilberry glanced back at Thorin, unsure. If Gandalf wished to discuss quest business with Thorin, she didn’t want to intrude if he’d rather not have her there. Thorin placed a hand at her back and gestured with the other for her to follow after the wizard. 

Balin waited for them down the hall. When they came into sight, she saw him relax and smile approvingly at her and Thorin. Then he turned a stern gaze to Gandalf. “Tharkun. You said we had dire business to discuss.”

“Yes, Master Balin. I did not bring you to Rivendell without purpose, the map must be read in its entirety and that can only be done here.”

“Lead on, then.” Balin fell into step with Thorin.

They met Elrond in the library. Neither dwarf was pleased, but Gandalf convinced Thorin to let the elf lord look at the map. Lord Elrond inspected the map carefully and discovered the presence of moon runes hidden on the page. It was the first time Thorin shifted into a non confrontational tone in the elf’s presence and Bilberry was proud of him for it; glad to see he could put aside his mistrust at least temporarily.

From the library, Elrond brought them to a chamber open to the air and empty of everything save a pedestal near the cliff’s edge where he placed the map. When the moon shone down, new runes appeared on the map and Elrond read them aloud for those gathered.

They had until Durin’s Day, the dwarven new year at the end of summer, to get to the mountain.

Elrond voiced his concerns but didn’t try to stop them or tell them they couldn’t, and for that she was grateful. She did not want an argument between Thorin and Elrond.

The next day, the company was in high spirits. They were one step closer to Erebor now that the map had been deciphered and they made plans to leave at dawn. They had the day though, and she decided to take advantage of what time she had left to explore the city. Rivendell was beautiful, after all, and she likely wouldn’t get the chance to see it again. Her only complaint--if it could be called anything so harsh--was the depressing lack of gardens. She expected something close to the Shire’s greenery somewhere, but there didn’t seem to be anything of the sort that she could find. There was natural growth everywhere, but nothing cultivated. The closest she found was a courtyard with flowers lining several winding trails all centered around an enormous fountain.

She admired it after her examination of the flowers until two familiar whoops of excitement pulled her out of thoughts. Fili and Kili raced past her and leapt into the fountain, not a stitch of clothing between the two of them.

“Yavanna’s mercy!” She covered her eyes, blushing to the tips of her ears. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a bath.” Kili stated like it should have been obvious.

“You have bathing facilities in your room!”

“That waterfall thing?” Fili frowned. “There’s hardly enough room in there.”

“Room for what?”

Several more rushes of air and splashes answered that question. It was hard to tell from the sound alone, but she’d hazard a guess the whole company had just jumped into the fountain naked as the day they were born.

“So it wasn’t that you were hiding,” Thorin rumbled from behind her, “you’re just prudish.”

“ _Modest!_ ” She corrected, whirling around to glare at him. “I am modest and-- _you are naked!_ ” She slammed her hand over her eyes again, but not before she caught an eyeful of sculpted dwarf chest. She heard laughter behind her from Fili and Kili. She turned again, keeping her eyes shut, and pointed in what she thought was their general direction. Two warm hands turned her shoulders, presumably correcting her aim. “You two are a _menace_ , we’ll see who’s laughing when I write Dis to tell her how dreadful you’ve both been.”

“From the look of it, you aren’t seeing anything.” Bofur joked.

“Of course not!” She snapped. “It is wildly improper for a lass to see a _dozen_ naked males.”

Which is why she’d never washed with the company in the various streams or rivers along the way. One reason, anyway. They’d teased her for it, but she didn’t care. It wa a cultural difference she was not willing to cross. 

She turned herself away from the fountain, eyes firmly shut, and started walking away only to trip over someone’s discarded breeches, sending her sprawling. Instinctively, she opened her eyes to help catch herself, but rather than the ground coming up to meet her, she collided with a thickly muscle dwarven arm as Thorin caught her. Blessedly, he was not directly in front of her, so she didn’t catch an eyeful of his… nakedness. Instead his shoulder looked like an excellent place to hide her flaming cheeks. Remarkably, he let her without comment. 

When she’d gathered herself again she raised her head, took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She turned to Thorin, eyes stubbornly locked on his face, and said. “Thank you, but I think I shall take my leave now, before I’m burned from the heat in my cheeks.”

“You could cool off in the water!” Fili taunted.

She made a rude gesture she’d learned from Bifur over her shoulder and then pulled Thorin’s arm away slowly, pushing him behind her so she could safely walk away with her eyes open.

She wandered the interior of Rivendell for the next hour trying to banish the feel of Thorin from her mind. It was such a bad idea to nurture these sorts of thoughts about the leader of the company and King Under the Mountain! She’d been trying to stop her growing feelings for the dwarf, but every time he surprised her or smiled or showed fondness for his nephews or-- no! _Stop._ A romantic attachment with any of the company would have been futile, but with _Thorin Oakenshield_ it was especially insane. Even if it were possible he might return her interest, he’d need a queen by his side. Not a hobbit. Such logical arguments didn’t stop her mind from wondering though.

Her Baggins common sense had clearly fled her.

It was while she took a moment to let the majesty of the environment (rather than that of a particular dwarf) fill her mind that Elrond found her. “Not with your companions?”

“I have seen enough dwarf for one day.” She groaned. 

“Indeed. Some find the company of dwarves… trying.”

“No less trying than some of my relatives.” She confided. 

Elrond gave her an appraising look. “I suppose if there was a hobbit to brave the world and the people outside the Shire, it would be the daughter of Belladonna Took.”

“Did you know my mother very well?”

“I met her only in passing, however, my sons speak very highly of her. And of you.”

She remembered her time with the twins yesterday in the library. They’d reminded her so much of Fili and Kili she was determined for the safety of all Middle Earth they should _never_ meet.

“I didn’t realize I’d made such a good impression. We spoke only briefly.”

“They were excited to meet you. I do not believe you could have made a poor impression if you had tried.”

“That’s good considering I ran into them shortly after discovering my books in your library.” She grinned. “I was surprised to say the least.”

Elrond chuckled. “They mentioned that, yes. Is it so hard to believe your work left the Shire?”

“I sell mainly in Bree, to humans, I’d no idea I had a readership in Ered Luin and Rivendell until this quest.” Bilberry confessed. 

“There is little enough that connects elves, men, dwarves, and hobbits to each other, but I have found that all races enjoy a well-told story, Mistress Baggins. It surprises me not at all that your books have found their way across Arda.” He told her.

“Thank you.” She felt almost unworthy of such high praise, but she took pride in her work and trusted that Elrond was not one prone to exaggeration. 

“You are most welcome, and should you desire, you will always find Rivendell open to you.” He inclined his head politely and then left her to her thoughts.

Unwilling yet to face the company and their inevitable teasing, she went to the kitchens directly for her evening meal. She ate her fill while chatting with the cooks, consoling them as they lamented the strain the dwarves were putting on their normal routine, secretly smiling at the idea of these elves trying to feed thirteen _hobbits_ instead. Strain indeed.

Finished with her meal, she made her was back to the company. Thorin found her first, apparently looking for her.

“You’ve been gone a while.” He stated. Was that concern in his voice?

“I apologize. It took some time for me to collect myself after the kerfuffle at the fountain.” She felt her cheeks warm at the memory.

“I apologize as well. Communal bathing is common for dwarrow, it did not occur to the company that it would be an issue for you.”

“Even your women?” She asked curiously.

Thorin nodded. “Mostly among family, but there are dwarrowdam who use the pools in the Guild Halls and barracks as freely as the men.” 

“Communal bathing at all is not done in the Shire.” She informed him.

“How very…” he caught her glare and finished with a smirk, “modest.”

“It is modesty,” she grinned, “hobbits certainly can’t be called prudish after all.”

Whatever response Thorin had died on his lips as the agitated voices of Gandalf and Elrond drifted up from the courtyard below.

“Of course I was going to tell you, I was waiting for this very chance. And really, you can trust that I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” Elrond challenged. “That dragon has slept for _sixty years_. What would happen if your plan should fail? If you wake that beast?”

“What if we succeed?” Gandalf countered. “If the dwarves take back the mountain, our defenses in the east will be strengthened.”

“It is a dangerous move, Gandalf.”

“It is also dangerous to do nothing!”

How could leaving Erebor alone be dangerous? Surely if Smaug was alive and had not been seen in half a century, the beast was content to slumber in his stolen hoard. 

“The throne of Erebor is Thorin’s birthright, what is it you fear?” The wizard continued.

“You’ve forgotten. A strain of madness runs deep in that family. His grandfather lost his mind, his father fell to the same sickness; can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?” 

She felt very suddenly that listening in had been an altogether bad idea. This madness, if it ran in Thorin’s blood, should have been his to discuss, not something for her to learn about eavesdropping on a conversation between two of the most powerful beings in Middle Earth.

“Gandalf, these decisions do not rest with us alone. It is not up to you or me to redraw the map of Middle Earth.”

“With or without our help, these dwarves will march on the mountain; they’re determined to reclaim their homeland. I do not believe Thorin feels he is answerable to anyone, nor for that matter am I.” 

“It is not me you must answer to.”

She was very aware of Thorin behind her, and she wanted to apologize to him about intruding, but… the open, friendly Thorin from moments before was gone. In his place was a brooding, angry king and she couldn’t think of a thing to say to calm him down.

“Burglar.” He whispered. She turned to him, forcing wariness from her features. “I would know who plots against us.”

Her eyes shot up to the overlook that Elrond and Gandalf disappeared into. He wanted her to eavesdrop on their conversation again, to purposefully listen in and report back. If it had just been the two of them, she’d probably be forgiven if she was caught, but Elrond made it sound like others were there as well. Others that would not be so forgiving. But… if there were people moving against them, the company needed to know. She nodded and slipped into the shadows to sneak up to the overlook. She kept herself low, out of direct line of sight of anyone above her and listened.

“...no idea Lord Elrond had sent for you.” Gandalf was saying.

“He didn’t.” A voice she didn’t recognize, older, male. Didn’t sound elven. “I did.”

Gandalf sounded strained, his cheer forced, when he said, “Saruman.” 

The white wizard, most powerful of their order. She desperately hoped she didn’t get caught now; he’d turn her into something nasty, she just knew it.

“You’ve been busy of late, my old friend.” Saruman said. “Tell me, why should the White Council allow these dwarves to threaten the east for their greed.”

He would stop them, she realized, regardless of what Gandalf said. If they were still there when the meeting ended, they would never reach the mountain. She knew it with a certainty she couldn’t explain. Bilberry didn’t wait for more, she moved as fast as she could while still being quiet and raced back to Thorin.

“Saruman intends to stop us. We have to leave, _now_.” She tugged on his arm as she ran past to get him to follow.

He wasted no time arguing and the two of them ran to the company’s quarters. As silently as they could, they woke the others and had them gather what gear they had. They were gone in less than an hour.


	5. Open Road

The excitement of their escape from Rivendell wore off some time between dawn and first breakfast and Bilberry was reminded very suddenly that she hadn’t slept. A yawn cracked her face and lead filled her limbs, but she carried on. Thorin was still pushing for more distance between them and Rivendell. She didn’t want to slow them down, but the exhaustion was starting to ware. When they stopped for lunch around midday, she pulled Dwalin away from the others and asked him to train her with her “letter opener” in a desperate attempt to stay awake. 

Given the look Dwalin threw her way, he knew exactly why she asked, but that didn’t stop him from putting her through her paces. He didn’t let her actually use the sword, but a decently sized stick had just as much bite when it hit her. By time lunch was ready, she was bruised but awake. 

To her dismay, she was pulled away from helping Bombur with dinner into more training with Dwalin. 

“You started this, Lass.” He told her sternly. “You don’t get to stop now.”

She heard Fili and Kili laugh and “accidentally” lost her grip on the stick, pegging Kili in the head. “Oops.”

Nori chuckled at Kili’s betrayed look and said, “Maybe she should try throwing daggers instead.”

“You gonna forge some for her?” Dwalin taunted.

Rather than a sarcastic response like she expected, Nori sputtered and muttered, “That’s not funny. I didn’t mean-- no offense, Lass.”

“None taken?” Bilberry was confused. She was missing something, but between her own tiredness and Dwalin attacking her with a stick, she couldn’t be bothered to ask for clarification. 

After dinner was served, Dwalin let her go eat. She took a bowl of soup from Bombur with a heartfelt thank you and devoured the contents. Training had left her starving! It wasn’t until she heard her name that she paid attention to the conversation around her.

“Mistress Bilberry’s disguise was convincing,” Dori was arguing with someone, probably Nori. 

“Aye.” Gloin agreed. “I want to know how it was you all seemed to know she wasn’t what she said.”

Bilberry smiled, amused by the dwarves frustration. She admitted to being curious though, so she listened intently. 

“I told you,” Oin muttered, “the tea she made every night had more’n tea leaves in it.”

“Which I wasn’t able to replace in Rivendell.” She groused. 

“Her books,” Ori said. “The way they were written, it sounded like a woman.”

That wasn’t something she’d thought about, and no Man had ever accused her of such. “I didn’t realize there was a difference.”

“It’s not obvious!” Ori was quick to promise. “Probably only another scribe with at least journeyman braids would notice.”

“Pretty sure that’s just you.” Fili corrected, nudging the small scribe.

“He means that in a good way.” Kili added.

“Aye, and how did you two figure it out?”

“We heard her sing.” They said.

“Hum. You heard me hum _quietly._ ” She said incredulously. 

“Right. Then you landed on Kee when the troll threw you.” Fili smirked. 

“You were very… soft.” Kili had a pinched look on his face like he really didn’t want to explain any further.

“All hobbits are soft.” She challenged, keeping her tone innocent.

Kili squirmed. “Soft in… specific places.”

Half the dwarves laughed, the other half seemed offended on her behalf. Thorin whacked Kili on the back of the head, but he was fighting a smirk. 

She took pity on the poor lad. “Breathe Kili. I’m hardly offended. I’m more upset that you were possibly a harder landing than the ground would have been.”

Kili preened at the praise until Fili jabbed him in the ribs, knocking the air out of him. This, of course, led to a wrestling match which the others left them to while conversation continued.

“How about you, Nori?” Ori asked. 

Nori looked at her, but she was curious too. All he’d said in Rivendell was that it had been obvious. If he could tell her where she could improve her disguise, all the better. She gave him an encouraging gesture and he took the invitation, “Several things. The herbs, for one, also her clothes didn’t fit right, she didn’t ride like a lad on his first pony, and she didn’t walk like a lad either.”

“Aye,” Dwalin agreed. “Noticed that myself.” 

She huffed. How was she supposed to walk like a man when she didn’t know there was a difference? It was just walking, one foot in front of the other. How many different ways could it really be done?

“No use getting all huffy. You fooled most of ‘em.” Bofur patted her on the back.

“Six out of thirteen.” Bilberry correct. “That’s nearly half.”

“No one in Bree knew.” Bofur grinned. “Fooled a whole town!”

“A town of Men,” she smiled, “that hardly counts.”

The company laughed and agreed. Bilberry enjoyed the levity of the night despite the hasty exit from Rivendell and she wanted to continue to share in it, but she was exhausted. With regret, she bade the company goodnight and curled up in her bedroll, fast asleep in moments.

Dwalin woke her just before the sunrise and she groaned. Unsympathetic, the dwarf hauled her to her feet and to a clear space for them to train. They went on while the others went about breaking camp and breaking fast, but he allowed her a few minutes to eat before Thorin moved them out for the day. Every time they stopped for meals or for the end of the day, Dwalin insisted she train. It wouldn’t compare to the years of dedicated training the rest of the company had, but it might keep her alive if it came to it. After a few days she was getting used to constantly aching in new and exciting places.

They were truly into the Misty Mountains now and the terrain was no longer gentle hills and plains, but rocky slopes and cliffs. Her hobbit feet traversed the trails easily enough, though she was not looking forward to the high pass they’d be taking through the worst of the mountains. Thorin stopped them at the last wide spot in the trail before the high pass became too narrow and had them make camp. It was earlier than they would have normally stopped, but there would be no place to camp on the pass unless they got lucky and found a cave.

She went willingly when Dwalin pulled her over for training, resigned to the inevitability of it. It was hard to tell, but she thought the gruff dwarf was pleased when she went without complaint and devoted her attention to the training. She was still shite at it, but it had only been a few days.

After dinner, there was still time left before sleep would call them to their bedrolls, so Bofur started up a rousing song. It was a popular one because the others quickly joined in, though she didn’t recognize it, she clapped along with the beat and tried to hum the chorus. Fili and Kili took up the lead with a new song once the first was done, pulling her up to dance with them. She tried to protest but was too busy laughing to be coherent. The brothers spun and guided her through the dance until she was dizzy. She was rescued by Bofur when he cut in, stealing her away from Fili for a more sedate set of steps. Another song had her dancing with Bifur and Gloin while Bofur played his flute. When that song ended, she hid behind Thorin when his nephews tried to claim her again.

“Well if you won’t dance, you must sing!” Kili proclaimed when she ducked behind Thorin.

“Aye,” Bofur cheered. “Give us a song!”

More encouragement from the others rang out over the camp and she considered which song to sing. She knew several pub tunes from Bree, but probably nothing they hadn’t heard before. The Shire had a few songs, though. She settled on one of those and stepped back into the light of the fire. 

“ _There was an old man who lived in a wood_  
_As you can plainly see_  
_He said he could do as much work in a day_  
_As his wife could do in three_

_With all my heart the woman she said_  
_If that’s what you will allow_  
_Tomorrow you’ll stay at home in my stead_  
_And I go drive the plough_

_But you must milk our Tidy the cow_  
_For fear she will go dry_  
_You must feed the littlest pigs_  
_That are within the sty_  
_And you must mind the speckled hen_  
_For fear she’ll lay away_  
_And then you must reel the spool of yarn_  
_That I spun yesterday_

_The woman she took up her staff in her hand_  
_And she went to drive the plough_  
_The old man took up a pail in his hand_  
_And he went to milk the cow_  
_But Tidy hinched and Tidy flinched_  
_And Tidy broke his nose_  
_And Tidy she gave to him such a big blow_  
_The poor man took to his toes_

_Hi Tidy home Tidy_  
_Tidy thou stand still_  
_If ever I’m ill be tidy again,_  
_Be sore against my will_  
_He went to feed the little pigs_  
_That were within the sty_  
_He hit his big head upon a thick beam_  
_And he made his red blood fly_

_He went to find the speckledy hen_  
_For fear she’d lay astray_  
_Forgot to reel the spool of yarn_  
_His wife spun yesterday_  
_He swore by the sun, the moon, the stars,_  
_The green leaves on the tree_  
_If his wife didn’t do a days work in her life_  
_She won’t be ruled by he_

_There was an old man who lived in a wood_  
_As you can plainly see_  
_He said he could do as much work in a day_  
_As his wife could do in three_

_With all my heart the woman she said_  
_If that’s what you will allow_  
_Tomorrow you’ll stay at home in my stead_  
_And I go drive the plough.”_

“Is that a hobbit song?” Ori asked as the company applauded.

“It is,” she confirmed, “though I can’t say it’s ever been heard outside the Shire before.”

“A shame that is.” Bofur stated. “Songs should be shared.”

“It is shared from hobbit to hobbit; there’s just none that leave the Shire.”

“You left.” Kili pointed out.

“As did my mother.” She smiled, bittersweet when she thought of Belladonna. “I suppose I could share some songs.” She conceded. “Only if you share songs with me in return.”

“Happily!” Bofur leapt to his feet and started another song. It was a raunchy tune with poorly veiled innuendo, but hilarious, and one she knew. When the chorus came around, she added her voice to the miner’s, to much cheering and applause. They traded songs for a while until the time to sleep was upon them at last. She and Thorin volunteered for first watch, still awake from the merriment of the night, and Kili requested one last song. She smiled at his youthful request and sang a lullaby from the Shire as the dwarves found their bedrolls.

In an effort to spare her night vision, Bilberry kept her back to the fire while she walked the perimeter of camp. She hummed her mother’s song while she walked, enjoying the night. 

When all the dwarves other than Thorin were snoring, she made one last circuit of the perimeter and then settled upon a rock to keep watch, and Thorin settled himself at the base of the rock below her. 

“Do you intend to abandon your disguise now that the company knows?”

“I hid only so you would not send me home, seeing as that is no longer a concern, I had thought I would leave the ruse behind. Should I continue it?” She asked.

The dwarf hummed thoughtfully. “It is worth consideration. If we encounter others on the road…”

“I may need to be Bilbo, like in Bree.” She understood. “There’s a problem with that, though. I lost all my clothes when the ponies ran. All I have are the clothes tailored for me and my coat.”

He grunted. “Throw one of our coats on and no one would know the difference.”

“Because I’d be swimming in it.”

He chuckled. “Exactly.”

An image of her wearing Thorin’s coat floated into her mind, pleasant and warm, surrounded by his particular scent. It was a silly fantasy, and she told herself not to dwell on it too long. Instead, she ran her hand just above the fur of his coat. “Is this wolf fur?”

“Aye. A harsh winter a few decades ago drove the packs closer to our borders. Dis made this from a few of their pelts.”

“The Fell Winter.” Bilberry remembered the wolves that crossed the River that winter. Hunger drove them into the Shire, and worse. Orcs who slipped past the Rangers. Between the invaders, the hunger, and the cold many hobbits died that season. Including Belladonna. 

“The Shire was affected as well.” Thorin picked up on her maudlin thoughts.

She nodded. “It was the worst winter in our history. The River froze opening or borders to attack from the desperate. The Rangers did their best, but some still made it through.”

“Have you no other defenses?”

“We aren’t fighters, but we can be clever on occasion. After the first few attacks, a few Tooks and Brandybucks made traps to keep the wolves away.”

“Did it work?”

“For a time.” Bilberry said. “Then the orcs showed up. They were able to get past or destroy the traps. The Rangers arrived before they made it beyond the outer farms, but almost everyone at those farms died.”

“Despicable creatures.” Thorin growled. “I didn’t think they nested so close to the Shire.”

“They don’t. The hunger drove them leagues away from their home,” she explained. “Ordinarily the River, the Rangers, and the forest are enough to keep intruders away, but everything seemed to go wrong that winter. Even after the attacks stopped. Our own stores ran out; some died of starvation, others cold, and still more from sickness. It was… horrible.”

“So much loss always is, but your people have thrived since then.” Thorin commented.

“Grief is uncomfortable, and we are creatures of comfort. We mourned and then moved on.” Bilberry swallowed down the bitterness at the back of her throat. Her own losses were just part of the whole of the Fell Winter; no one was left untouched by the cold hand of suffering, but to her it had always felt like everyone just chose to forget what happened.

“You do not approve?” Thorin asked. “You would have them mourn still?”

“Of course not. I miss my mother dearly, but the Fell Winter was decades ago. Continuing to mourn as if it were yesterday would be… foolish, but tragedy swept through the Shire for the first time in memory and rather than do what they could to prevent future loss, they went about their lives as if it never happened. Nothing changed.”

The look on Thorin’s face was unreadable, but he didn’t appear upset or displeased. He regarded her carefully and asked, “What would you have them do?”

“The Shire relies too heavily on the area’s natural protections. Another winter could freeze the River; fire could take the forest. We are not fighters, and I wouldn’t want to change the very nature of my people so drastically, but there are other ways to defend ourselves. Traps or an early warning system to give people time to hide or flee unprotected areas; we could build true alliances with our neighbors rather than keep to ourselves. And we should increase our reserves; food, yes, but also firewood, blankets, water. Things we’d run out of if we were unable to restock.”

“Have you suggested these changes to your people?”

“Most of my people think I’ve been spending too much time with Men, that I’ve become paranoid. My grandfather is Thain, the closest thing we have to a king, and he said he worried the peaceful existence of the Shire would be compromised if we did things like those ‘aggressive races.’” She sighed, wearily remembering the argument she’d had with Grandfather Gerontius all those years ago. “He’s a good hobbit, a good Thain, and he misses my mother as much as I do, but he believes wholeheartedly that the reason the Shire is all but ignored by the other races is that we are a peaceful people, completely ill-suited and ill-minded for war.”

“He is not entirely wrong.” Thorin grudgingly allowed.

“I know, but being peaceful didn’t stop the wolves or the orcs. Extreme circumstance brought them to the Shire and it could happen again. We should learn from what happened before, not ignore it; no matter how uncomfortable those lessons.”

The crackling of the fire was the only sound for a time, neither dwarf nor hobbit compelled to speak. She’d just ranted about the foolishness of hobbits to a dwarven king; what he must think of her now. 

Finally, Thorin remarked thoughtfully, “You would be a good leader for your people, Bilberry Baggins.”

A warmth bloomed in her chest at his words and she smiled. Thorin was a great leader for his people, for him to think of her as such was high praise indeed. “I appreciate that, it means a great deal coming from you, but my people would never accept me as Thain. A spinster who travels outside of the Shire? Perish the thought.”

“Spinster?”

“Of course. Hobbits have large families, you see, and to have that one must get started early. Nearly fifty is far too old to attract a husband.” Which was complete poppycock in her opinion, but she found more and more that her opinion was rarely the common one in the Shire.

Thorin cleared his throat awkwardly. “That’s… not old by dwarven standards.”

“It’s not particularly old for a hobbit either.” She defended.

“When do hobbits reach majority?” He asked.

“Thirty-three.”

“Dwarves reach their majority at sixty-five.”

Oh, yes she could see how nearly fifty was not old by dwarven standards at all. “I promise you haven’t stolen a child from her home; I am twelve years past my majority.”

“So is Kili.” Thorin told her dryly.

She waved that comparison away, “That’s hardly the same, now is it. How old do dwarves live?”

“Three hundred years, give or take, assuming they do not die in battle.” 

“Let me see… if I have my numbers right, I’m probably around… 96? By dwarven standards.” Bilberry estimated. 

She saw Thorin relax marginally and smiled to herself. He had truly been worried he’d taken a child on the quest when she’d said how old she was. She might have been offended if he’d acted that way at all before finding out her age, but he hadn’t. 

“An adult, but not an old one.” She went on. “I could probably still have a large family if I chose to settle down, but I’d have to find a husband who didn’t bore me silly first.”

Thorin chuckled along with her at the admission. Secretly, she believed the company had completely ruined her for hobbit men; there were so few as entertaining as the dwarves, and none that looked like Thorin Oakenshield. 

The sound of rocks shifting a little ways from their camp had Bilberry on high alert. Had something snuck up on them while they weren’t paying attention? Thorin was on his feet next to her, hand on his sword, looking out into the night, but he relaxed a moment later. 

“A fox.” He told her.

She nodded and tried to get her heartbeat back to reasonable speeds. 

The fox hadn’t been a threat, but it served to remind them that they had a job to do. They were silent for the remainder of the watch. When it was time to switch, Thorin woke Dwalin and Gloin while she made her way to her bedroll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The song that Bilberry sings is The Old Man as done by Kate Rusby_


	6. High and Low

The high pass was no one’s idea of fun, but it didn’t give the company real trouble until nightfall when a storm caught them. Torrential rainfall and narrow paths made even the surest hobbit feet slip on occasion, but with luck and help she hadn’t fallen to her death. Despite the danger, they pushed on. There was no place to stop on the path, there was almost no place to _walk_. They had to keep going.

Falling rocks nearly obliterated the path beneath her feet. She clung to the mountain at her back, standing on a perch only just wide enough for her feet, and moved carefully forward once there was space. Up ahead, Balin was shouting something and pointing. She followed his gaze and could hardly believe her own eyes as the mountain _moved_ , tearing a boulder from another peak and hurling it across the cavernous gap at their feet.

“Stone giants,” Bofur cried. “They are real.”

The mountain under them lurched and split right down the middle of the company as the stone giant they stood upon woke up and joined the fight. She feared for Fili and Kili as the yawning distance between them caused the brothers to reach for each other in vain. Thorin pulled Kili away from the edge as Dwalin did for Fili, and she watched as Thorin and those with him jumped to safety, but there was no safe place for the rest of them to jump to as the mountain kept moving. They did their best just to stay on the mountain. When the giant they rode lost its head and began to fall forward, they saw their chance. The ledge ahead was wide enough for them and back on the path; she just hoped the crash landing wouldn’t kill them.

At the last minute they jumped, but she miscalculated how much space was in front of her. Her toes just touched the path before they slipped out from under her sending her down the cliff’s edge. She managed to grab ahold of the edge of the path and clutched desperately to the wet stone, and tried to force air into her lungs so she could call for help. The sick feeling of nothing beneath her feet did not make it an easy task.

“Where’s Bilberry?” Bofur shouted. 

Ori’s head popped over the side of the path. “Here! Help me get her up!”

Bofur and Ori tried to pull her up, but it wasn’t until Thorin jumped down next to her to push her up that she was able to clamber over the edge to safety. Bofur hauled her up and pressed her next to the side of the mountain, keeping himself between her and the edge. As he did, she saw Thorin lose his hold on the edge and nearly fall to his death, if not for Dwalin’s quick reflexes. Dwalin hoisted Thorin up with all his not inconsiderable strength, and all she could do was watch, hardly breathing until the king was firmly on the path once more.

She opened her mouth to thank him, but Thorin’s fierce glare stalled any words she may have had. 

“Foolish halfling!” He roared. “You are distracting this company, putting our lives, our quest in danger. You should never have left home!”

Bilberry felt the salt sting of tears in her eyes, but she refused to cry. It would look like weakness, like him yelling at her had upset her delicate sensibilities. It hadn’t, she wasn’t. She was _angry_. How dare he accuse her of such! Bilberry had saved their lives delaying the trolls, had kept the true nature of their quest from the people of Bree. She was _not_ a danger to the company! Before she could give him a piece of her mind, though, he growled and turned away, which only increased her ire.

“There’s a cave.” Dwalin shouted. 

“Search it.” Thorin ordered. “Caves in the mountains are rarely empty.”

He was determined to ignore her, it seemed. Avoided even looking at her. She was ready to grab him by the braids and force him to listen when Fili and Kili waylaid her. They dragged her into the cave when Dwalin gave the all clear and set her down near the back, as far from Thorin as they could get.

“He didn’t mean it.” Kili insisted quietly.

Fili busied himself rolling out their bedding and nodded, “Uncle does that when he’s scared.”

“Took us ages to figure it out.” Kili explained. “When we’d do something that ended poorly, he’d yell and say things he didn’t really mean, but it’s just ‘cause he’s worried.”

“He feels bad about it.”

“Which is why he’s avoiding you.”

“But it comes from a good place, we swear.”

“Please don’t leave.”

She placed a hand over each of their mouths to get them to stop talking. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They relaxed and she took her hands back, giving them both a stern look. “That does not mean I forgive his behavior, and ‘coming from a good place’ does not excuse it. He’s a king, and more, he’s an adult. He should know better.”

“You’re going to be mad at him forever?” Kili pouted.

She shook her head, fighting a smile at the princelings dejected look. “Don’t be silly. I’ll forgive him as soon as he apologizes. In person,” she added when they both opened their mouths, “it doesn’t mean anything unless it comes from him.”

“You’re going to be mad at him forever.” Fili sighed.

Bilberry rolled her eyes, “Go to sleep.”

“You go to sleep.” Kili mumbled, but he and his brother laid down on their bedrolls and fell fast asleep.

She waited until they were snoring before getting up and walking to the front of the cave. She wanted to wring out the worst of the water from her hair before she tried to sleep and doing so where the others were sleeping was just rude.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Bofur asked, jumping to his feet. She’d forgotten he was on watch. “You’re not leavin--”

“No, I’m not.” She whispered, rolling her eyes again. Honestly, like a few harsh words were going to send her running. If that were true, Lobelia would’ve taken over Bag End years ago. “I’m just getting the rain out of my hair.”

“Oh. Good. That’s good then.” Bofur adjusted his hat awkwardly. “Cause he was wrong, you know. You been nothing but helpful--”

“Bofur,” she smiled as she started to wring out her hair, “it’s okay. Well. Not exactly, but I’m not leaving. I told Thorin before that he wasn’t going to send me home and I meant it.”

The minor chuckled. “Think I would have liked to have seen that conversation.”

“Stick around.” She said sardonically. “I may have to remind him. Loudly.”

A sound, something just on the edge of her hearing set little hairs on the back of her neck on end and a low sense of dread curled in her gut; it quickened her pulse, made drawing a full breath painful, and sent her eyes scanning the area. “Do you hear that?”

“What?”

She tried to find the source of the sound but was nearly blind in the dark of the cave. Soft light drew her eye to her hip where her sword was strapped. The glow came from the blade within its sheath and she pulled it out an inch to confirm what she was seeing. Blue light.

“Goblins.”

“Wake up!” Thorin yelled. “On your feet!”

The order sent the dwarves in motion, but not fast enough. The floor dropped out from under them and the whole company went tumbling down. They fell, sliding down smoothed stone, into open air, slamming into more stone, once more into open air until at last the landed in a cage made of bone and hide. No sooner had the last of them landed than a swarm of goblins began to yank them out onto their feet, shoving and grabbing, disarming the dwarves rapidly. The dwarves fought, but there were too many goblins and eventually they were pushed along the path. As they went, Bilberry noticed she hadn’t been disarmed. In fact, no goblins were pushing her about either. 

She froze.

To her surprise, the swarm kept moving. Quietly, slowly, she dropped to her hands and knees, and the hoard ignored her. When it was fully past, she stood up and tied her hair into a loose knot, out of her face, before drawing her sword. She had to do something, but a direct attack would be suicide. She’d follow instead, maybe she could free a couple others before they reached their destination.

A goblin noticed her, jumping down from its perch to attack. She swung her sword but it dodged and leapt onto her back. When it bit her shoulder, she cried out and jerked back, trying to dislodge it. Unfortunately, she lost her footing and fell, once more, over the side of the path.

When she woke up the first thing she noticed was that she was in far too much pain to be dead. Her whole body ached, but her shoulder throbbed particularly loudly where the damn goblin bit her. She ignored it as best she was able and sat up. She’d landed on a patch of mushrooms, probably all that’d saved her from a disastrous end. She picked up her sword--still blue--and looked around. If that goblin survived the fall as well, it might come after her.

Movement in the tunnel ahead had her instinctively ducking behind a rock, but she kept a keen ear open to listen for danger. 

She heard something breathing, a rasping, ill sounding noise. Was it the goblin? She turned slightly so she could see around the rock. The goblin was just on the other side, but it wasn’t what she’d heard. Another creature, gaunt and unnatural, crawl-hopped on its hands and feet to the goblin, talking to itself as it went. It began to drag the goblin away until the goblin fought back, then it picked up a rock and bashed the goblin on the head until it stilled once more. 

After it took the goblin away, Bilberry crept out of her hiding spot and made to follow. If it resided in these tunnels, it might know a way out, and it certainly wasn’t a friend to the goblins. She might persuade it to help her. 

As she walked, she stepped on something that wasn’t stone. Lifting her foot away, she saw it was a ring. A simple, plain gold band. What was it doing here? Seeing no reason to leave it abandoned in the dark, she picked it up and put it in her pocket before continuing forward.

The tunnel opened into a cavern with a pool of water at its heart. On the center island, the creature was singing. Not normally one to judge another’s vocal talents, Bilberry still found herself cringing at the sound; beyond not holding a tune with any skill, the singing was disturbing. She wasn’t sure if she really wanted help from something that felt so… off.

The glow from her blade winked out and the singing stopped. Suddenly nervous, she glanced toward the pool again, but the creature was nowhere to be seen. Where had it gone?

The rattling breath of the creature, _much_ closer than it should have been, had her raise her sword in front of her in alarm. It dropped in front of her and she got her first good look at it as it eyed her with voracious interest. Gaunt was not an accurate description. It was _skin and bone_ , nearly a walking skeleton, stretched with pale skin. Wisps of what once was long hair hung limply from its head which housed the largest pair of eyes she’d ever seen and two, large, vaguely hobbit-like ears. Its feet were very hobbitish too, but no hobbit in all of existence had ever looked or sounded like this being.

When it spoke she could see only a handful of rotting teeth still in its mouth. “That is a meaty mouthful, Precious!”

The tip of her sword against its chest made it pause and retreat a little, “Gollum, gollum.”

“Back.” She ordered. “Stay back. Do not come any closer.” She had no desire to be dinner.

“It’s got an elfish blade, but it’s not an elfs.” The creature muttered as it crawled away. “Not an elfs, no, what is it, Precious? What is it?”

Since that last one seemed directed at her rather than to itself, she answered. “My name is Bilberry Baggins.”

“Bagginses?” It growled. “What is a Bagginses, Precious?”

It wasn’t attacking, and it wasn’t talking about eating her any more, so she decided to parlay with it. If she could keep it talking, and not about making her its next meal, she might still convince it to help her escape.

“I’m a hobbit from the Shire.”

“Oh! We like goblinses, batses, and fisheses, but we hasn’t tried hobbitses before!”

They were back to the eating again. Great. And it was hopping closer. “It is soft? Is it juicy?”

“No!” She swung the sword. “Keep back! Look, all I want is for you to show me the way out. Then I’ll be on my way and you can enjoy a fine goblin dinner.”

“Why?” It taunted. “Is it lost?”

“Yes.” She admitted. “And I’d rather like to be un-lost, so if you could…”

“Oh! We knows! We knows safe paths for hobbitses! Safe paths in the dark.” It said cheerfully, pointing, and then hissed, “Shut up!”

Startled by the abruptness, she frowned. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Wasn’t talking to you.” It growled. 

In addition to being unnatural looking, the creature seemed to suffer from wild mood swings. One moment cheerful, the next alarmingly cold and menacing.

“Look, I don’t know what your game is--”

“Games!” The thing cried happily. “We love games, doesn’t we Precious? Does it like games? Does it? Does it like to play?”

It was more cooperative in this mood. Maybe if she could keep it in this cheerful mood, she could get it to help her. “I like games.” She offered.

“What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees; up, up, up it goes, and yet, never grows?”

“The mountain.”

“Yes!” It laughed. “Oh, let’s have another one! D-d-do it again, ask us!”

A riddle game. She could manage that.

“No!” The angry mood took over. “No more riddles! Finish it off, finish it now! Gollum, gollum.”

Not good. “No, no! I want to play! I can see that you are very good at this,” she breathed a little easier when she saw the nearly innocent joy return to the creature; Gollum, she decided, “so why don’t we have a game of riddles? Just you and me.”

“Yes,” Gollum whispered and looked over its shoulder as if making sure they were alone, “just us.”

“Good, and if I win, you show me the way out, yes?”

“Yes,” Gollum nodded and then frowned, hissing an exasperated sigh before ducking behind the rock to ask itself, “and if it loses? What then? Well, if it loses, Precious, then we eats it!”

Oh, goodness. She might have miscalculated this one.

Gollum returned and declared, “If Baggins loses, we eats it whole.”

She didn’t see another way out this, so, “Fair enough.”

“Baggins first.” 

Right. She searched quickly for a decently challenging one. “Thirty white horses on a red hill; first they champ, then they stamp, then they stand still.”

Gollum thought it over, but settled on the answer, teeth, fast enough. It gave her another riddle, although, this time it didn’t sound nearly so cheerful. “Voiceless it cries, wingless flutters, toothless bites, mouthless mutters.”

She didn’t recognize it immediately like the one before. “Just a moment.”

Bilberry turned away, thinking, keeping the Gollum’s reflection in the pool, at least, in sight. The ripples distorted his image a little… ripples… “Wind.” She smiled. “It’s wind!”

Gollum growled, advancing, “Very clever hobbitses, very clever.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she pointed her sword at him to get him to stop, “a box without hinges, key, or lid, yet golden treasure inside is hid.”

Gollum struggled with that one, pacing and pounding on rock as he thought, prompting her to ask if he gave up. He didn’t, of course, and finally settled on the correct answer. “Eggses!”

Bilberry sighed and started thinking of her next riddle while Gollum nattered on about how tasty eggs were. Unfortunately, her inattention to the creature proved ill-timed. 

She lost sight of him in the dark and his voice echoed as he challenged, “We have one for you. All things it devours; birds, beasts, trees, flowers. Gnaws iron, bites steel, grinds hard stones to meal. Answer us…”

“Give me a moment! I gave you a nice long while.” She huffed. 

“Is it tasty?” Gollum sing-songed. “Is it scrumptous? Is it crunchable?”

The hands around her throat had her jumping away, sword aloft. “Let me think!”

“It’s stuck.” Gollum smiled. “Bagginses is stuck… Time’s up.”

That was it. “Time. The answer is time!”

Gollum snarled in frustration and stated darkly. “Last question. Last chance.”

Last question… Question. Not riddle. She smiled to herself; it was a dirty trick to use the slip of the tongue against him, but something told her no matter what happened next, Gollum wasn’t going to just let her walk away. 

Sword at the ready, just in case, she asked, “What have I got in my pocket?”

It was an item so entirely out of place here that she was certain it would never cross his mind.

“That’s no fair. Not fair! It’s against the rules!” Gollum slammed the rock he’d been hiding down in his sulk.

“And that is?”

This cave was a place for the desperate and the lost; survival was the only rule.

“Ask us another one.”

“No. You said ask you a _question_ , and I have. What have I got in my pocket?”

“Three guesses, Precious. You must give us three.”

“Three guess, very well. Guess away.”

“Handses!”

She held up both, grasping her sword, “Wrong, guess again.”

Gollum began to name things around him in rapid succession, trying to think of which would fit, which would be likely, but tossed each aside. “Knife! No, shut up!”

“Wrong again.” She declared. “Last guess.”

“String! Or nothing!”

“Two guesses at once,” she teased, “both wrong.”

Gollum sank to the ground with a whine and sobbed, but she had no patience for his dramatics. 

“I won, come on. You promised to show me the way out.”

“Did we say so, Precious? Did we…?”

Here came the betrayal, she was sure, but she had the weapon and she was going to be firm. He wasn’t going to get out of this like a fauntling whinging on a carelessly planned bet.

“What _has_ it got in its pocketses?” Gollum hissed.

“That’s no concern of yours. You. Lost.”

“Lost?” He taunted, advancing again. He continued to taunt her as he reached for the scrap of fabric protecting its modesty, but the malevolence on its face transformed into panic when he didn’t find whatever he was reaching for. He began to search frantically, twisting to a fro, looking under rocks and bones and in the shallows of the water.

“My precious is lost!”

Horrified, she backed away slowly, dreading that she might know precisely what the creature was looking for. She slipped the ring out of her pocket and hid it behind her back.

“What have you lost?”

“Mustn't ask us, not its business!”

Slowly the mournful cries stopped and the hissing, sickly breathing evened. “What has it got in its _nasty_ , little pocketses?”

Yes. Time to go. She took off in the direction Gollum had pointed at the start of the game and hoped that she could find a way out before the demented creature caught up to her. The tunnel was dark but there was natural light coming from somewhere and it was just enough to keep her from being completely blind as she ran. The tunnel narrowed drastically ahead, but she could see more light streaming through. If she could fit, she could follow it out to daylight.

It was a tight squeeze and the buttons on her waistcoat caught on the rock, halting her progress long enough for Gollum to spot her escape. Frantic, she shoved her way through, ripping the buttons off her coat, and falling on her back on the other side. 

The ring slipped out of her hands as she landed, and she reached for it. In a feat that she was sure she would never again be able to repeat, she caught the ring _on_ her finger. As it slid into place, the color dimmed around her, and the harsh sounds of Gollum’s screeching dulled. When he burst through the hole in the wall, she was sure she was caught, but he didn’t notice her.

He looked right at her and _didn’t see her._

When he moved on, she followed. He seemed to think she’d found the way out already, which meant he could lead her to it in his pursuit. Invisible she may be--and that was a trick!--but he’d still be able to hear her if she wasn’t careful, so she kept as much distance between them as she dared and moved as silently as she was able. Eventually, they came to the way out, but Gollum heard something and ducked behind a rock, blocking her escape. In mixed relief and dismay, she saw all thirteen dwarves _and Gandalf_ race past Gollum’s hiding spot and out of the mountain.

Frustrated, she raised her sword to Gollum’s throat, ready to simply kill it and be done, but… as much as she called him creature, and as despicable as he was, he was also… pathetic. A scared, lonely thing with no recourse but to be as he was, and she had taken his only possession in the world. Should she take his life too? Did she have that right?

No, she decided. She could not bring herself to do it.

Steeling herself, she took a running leap over the piteous creature and scampered out of the cave after Gandalf and the others. If she was fast she could still catch them, so she ran.


	7. High and Low (continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _twice a week is too slow. new updates will be saturday, sunday, and wednesday_

Thankfully, the company had stopped some distance from the mountain and she was able to rejoin them.

“--her slip away when we were first collared.” Nori said.

“We have to go back!” Fili shouted.

“She could still be alive!” Kili looked ready to march back to the goblin caves with or without Thorin’s approval.

“Either she is dead or she saw her chance to return home and took it!” Thorin dismissed, though she saw the look on his face. He was torn, upset and trying not to show it.

She ducked behind a tree and pulled off the ring. “Thorin Oakenshield, how many times do I have to tell you?” She stepped away from the tree and leveled her fiercest glare, the one reserved for misbehaving fauntlings, on the stubborn king. “I am not going anywhere.”

“Bilberry Baggins,” Gandalf smiled, relief coloring his words. “I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life.”

“You made it!” The brothers scooped her up into a hug.

“How on earth did you get past the goblins?” Fili wondered excitedly. 

“How indeed?” Dwalin asked.

Gandalf must have sensed her hesitation. “What does it matter? She’s back.”

“It matters.” Thorin objected. “I want to know. Why did you come back?”

Surely he could not doubt her resolve to see this through, not after all this? Maybe… maybe he didn’t see _why_ she was so determined. He didn’t understand why a hobbit would travel across Middle Earth, through countless dangers, to help a group of dwarves slay a dragon and take back a mountain.

She could think of one very compelling reason she’d stayed through it all, but could not, here and now, admit aloud to the whole company what she had hardly dared admit silently to herself, but she could and would tell him what got her out of her front door in the first place. 

“I know you doubt me; I know you always have. You don’t understand why I would choose to leave my comfortable home, risking life and limb for people I didn’t even know. I did it for Bag End. My house is large and it’s empty, but for one night it was filled with laughter and song and people; for one night it was a _home_ again.” She glanced at the company behind him and remembered that night with a fond smile, “I did it for them,” she returned her eyes to his blue ones, “I did it for _you_ , because for however briefly, you gave me back my home. And I will do everything in my power to do the same for you.”

No one moved, the air itself seemed to wait for Thorin’s response, and for one wild moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. 

“Mistress Baggins,” he stepped forward, hand reaching for her, but rather than cup her cheek or pull her forward, he seemed to change his mind mid-motion and found her shoulder instead. “You’re injured.” His voice, at least, showed he was not unaffected by her declaration.

“Goblin bit me.” She let him divert the attention away from the moment. Probably for the best anyway.

“Oin,” Thorin called for the healer, but a warg howl distracted them all.

“Now what?” She frowned, deeply displeased. 

“Out of the frying pan,” Thorin grumbled.

“And into the fire. _Run._ ” Gandalf instructed, taking off at a sprint.

Thorin pushed her ahead of him and they followed the wizard. She shot a look over her shoulder to see if the others were keeping up and instead she saw a pack of wargs and orcs racing toward them down the hill. A warg jumped off a rocky ledge, soaring over her head, cutting her off from Thorin, and charged at her. She barely had time to raise her sword before it was upon her.

The sound of metal punching through skin and bone was not one she was likely to forget anytime soon, but as she was alive for it to haunt her and the warg was not, she called it an acceptable trade.

“Into the trees!” Gandalf ordered as the fastest wargs fell under dwarvish iron.

All around her, dwarves leapt into the trees with far more skill that she would have suspected given their mistrust of the plants. She crawled up and away from the warg, but her sword was stuck. She cursed and tugged, aware that she should _get moving_ , but she needed her sword. The increasingly frantic shouts from the dwarves spurred her on and she planted her foot against the beast’s skull and heaved, pulling the blade free at last, just in time to see the horde of orcs bearing down on her.

She ran for a tree, leaping into the branches with ease borne of years of practice as a tween in the Shire. Dwalin patted her on the shoulder as she climbed up next to him and Thorin. “Good, Lass.”

The wargs surrounded the treed dwarves and began jumping, snapping at them, forcing them higher into the branches. When their attacks ceased, Bilberry was not optimistic enough to believe they had given up. Indeed, they all turned to stare at a large, pale orc riding a white warg.

“Azog.” Thorin looked like he’d been struck.

Black speech wasn’t something Bilberry had ever heard before, but the words issuing forth from the orc could be nothing else. The only things she could pick out were names. Thorin and Thrain. The pale orc, sworn to eliminate the line of Durin, supposedly slain at the Battle of Moria, Azog the Defiler laughed at them, taunting Thorin with his very existence.

“It cannot be.”

Azog gave an order to his minions and the wargs attacked once more, uprooting the trees. The dwarves jumped from falling tree to falling tree until at last they reached the end. The last tree stood at the edge of a very large cliff. 

There was no where else to go.

With Gandalf’s help by way of flaming pinecones, they were able to push back the wargs, but the tree was already giving way. She clung to the trunk as it toppled, desperately hoping the whole tree wouldn’t simply tip over the edge. Mercifully, the roots clung as tight to the earth as she did to the tree. 

The company was still in serious trouble however. Ori and Dori were hanging off the edge of the tree, holding onto Gandalf’s staff, most of the dwarves were holding on to the tree by arms and stubbornness, the fire wasn’t going to keep the wargs away forever, and they had no escape.

This might really be the end, she realized.

Then Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror, _reckless, stubborn_ King Under the Mountain stood up and walked out to meet his foe. He was going to get himself killed!

She quickly started to pull herself up. If she could get on top of the tree, she could run after the lunatic and do… something. Stopping him seemed futile, but maybe she could help? At the very least, if she were there, he wouldn’t die alone.

She finally found her footing just as Azog’s warg latched his jaws around Thorin’s chest. He cried out in pain, but sliced Orcrist across the beast’s muzzle prompting it to fling him away. She raced forward as Azog ordered another orc to kill Thorin. With a daring bellow, she tackled the orc and killed it with a few desperate stabs to the chest, and then she planted herself defiantly between Azog and Thorin’s prone form.

“You cannot have him!” Bilberry shouted, sword raised before her, standing between death and the dwarf she loved.

The Pale Orc regarded her with a sneer and said something in Black Speech she didn’t understand, but the hate and disdain carried through no matter the language.

Then the dwarves charged the line of orcs and chaos erupted. She kept herself in front of Thorin, slashing and jabbing at wargs and orcs that got too close. She killed a couple, but injured more and the other dwarves were more than capable of finishing them off for a time. Surprise was on their side, but that lasted only so long. It wore off eventually, and they were still hopelessly outnumbered. Just as the battle was about to go south, shrieks filled the air and great, giant eagles joined the fight.

Triumphant, she cheered for their timely arrival and effective dispatchment of the wargs and orc, but drew Azog’s attention to herself and the still very vulnerable Thorin. He stalked up to them on his white warg, intent on his prize. Bilberry slashed the warg’s nose, scoring a deep gash, causing it to flinch back. Then an eagle swooped in, forcing the warg and rider back as another grasped Thorin gently in its talons before flying away.

Azog growled something again, bringing his beast forward, but it was too late. With a smile, she picked up Thorin’s fallen shield, saluted Azog with her sword, and then leapt off the cliff. 

She had two full seconds of freefall to start to regret her theatrical exit before landing safely on the back of an eagle. The sound of the Pale Orc’s outraged screams were sweet, sweet music to her ears and she smiled as her eagle and its fellows flew away.

Relief soon gave way to worry though as she had time to fear for the state of Thorin’s injuries. He hadn’t moved much after her arrival on the battlefield and she hadn’t had time to check to see if he was still even alive. Unable to do anything from the back of an eagle, instead she focused on other things, like the company. She counted the dwarves she could see, happy to note that all thirteen had made it off the cliff. Gandalf too. They’d all escaped. For now, that would have to be enough.

She dozed fitfully as they flew through the night. Come dawn, she was wide awake, anxious to be off the eagle, onto solid ground, and near her dwarves. The eagles set everyone down on a carrock not long after the sun rose.

Gandalf was already at Thorin’s side, spell on his lips, and moments later the king was awake.

“The halfling?”

_Really._ She was going to give him a piece of her mind if he called her halfling one more time. She wasn’t half of anything, thank you!

“She’s here, she’s fine. See for yourself.” Gandalf helped Thorin to his feet and pointed him in her direction.

Unfortunate pejoratives aside, she was immensely relieved to see him on his feet. She took a step forward, ready to offer him the oak shield, before his stony expression registered and she stopped. 

“You! What did you think you were doing? You could have been killed!” He shouted.

Bilberry leveled Thorin with a perfectly blank mask. She wasn’t expecting grand sweeping gestures of affection--except in fantasies--but _gratitude_ would have been a good start, and not something she thought would be so difficult for the king.

Fili and Kili were holding their heads in their hands, shoulders slumped behind Thorin’s back, and she remembered their talk in the cave about their uncle’s regrettable foot-in-mouth syndrome. It didn’t seem he was done yet though, and she was going to need one almighty apology after this.

“Did I not say you would be a danger? That you should have stayed home?”

She bit the inside of her lip to keep it from quivering like some fainting maid. When he swept her into a hug she released it with a small, surprised gasp.

“Never have I been more wrong in all my life.” He confessed. 

As apologies went, it was pretty good. Bilberry wrapped her arms around Thorin and hugged him back tightly, smiling. The cheers from the others drew them both from the embrace, and she didn’t think she was imagining the reluctance on Thorin’s part. He gave her a thankful smile as he took his shield.

“I am sorry I doubted you.”

She shook her head, “I told you I would get you home, but I am no hero, or warrior. I’m not even a burglar. I would have doubted me too.”

“Never again.” Thorin promised with a soft smile.

Before she could ask after his health, Thorin’s attention drifted to something behind her. She turned and beheld a spectacular view of the world before them. The last holdouts of the Misty Mountains gave way to lush plains followed by an enormous forest, and just there in the distance, finally close enough to see, a single solitary peak.

“Is that… what I think it is?”

“Erebor.” Thorin confirmed quietly. “Our home.”

“We’re almost there!” Kili cheered.

“The worst of it is behind us, I’ll bet.” Fili smiled.

Bilberry groaned internally. The prince may have just jinxed it, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment by scolding him. Writer’s superstition aside though, they really weren’t in the clear yet. The still had to make it down the carrock, away from Azog, through Mirkwood, and then fight a _dragon_. She might be called a pessimist for it, but that seemed plenty worse than trolls, stone giants, orcs, and goblins to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter is shorter than I remembered... This could have easily been added to the end of the last chapter. I'm sorry guys._


	8. Respite

Once they made it down, Oin insisted they rest. More than one member of the company was injured, and Thorin’s wounds needed to be seen to soon, despite his protests otherwise. Bilberry sided with Oin on the matter, putting her foot down adding that most of the company hadn’t slept recently either.

They compromised. Thorin allowed Oin to briefly tend to his injuries, but the orcs were still too close to afford setting up camp. Reluctantly, Bilberry agreed with his assessment, so they moved once Oin was done.

As the smallest and quietest, Bilberry scouted to track the progress of the orcs. They were closing in, but still a couple leagues out. What worried her more was the enormous bear that seemed to have taken an interest in their company as well.

When she mentioned this, Gandalf suggested a shelter nearby they could take refuge. If they could get there before either orcs or bear. Out of better options, the company agreed and made for the cottage. Of course, it wasn’t until after their mad dash to safety that Gandalf bothered to mention the bear was to be their _host_.

Bilberry gave the wizard a disapproving look; his habit of holding onto important information was grating on her nerves. Still, they were inside and safe for the moment. Tomorrow’s problems would have to wait; for now, rest was Bilberry’s priority. She made her way to a hay pile and found a comfortable position to fall asleep. 

The next day Bilberry woke to the overloud buzzing of overlarge bees. She gently shooed them away and extracted herself from the hay pile, brushing herself off as she walked over the others who were all already gathered at the barn door. Gandalf explained more about their host, Beorn the skinchanger, as the company listened with growing unease. Bilberry had faith in Gandalf though, and if he thought the two them could plead their case with the large man, then she chose to believe that as well. 

Until the wizard suggested the others follow in pairs so as not to overwhelm their host.

Bilberry shook her head. “Speaking from experience, Gandalf, I feel it would be better to do it all at once after you and I make our case.”

“And why is that, my dear?”

She gave him an unimpressed look. “That night, I had to keep going back to the door, not knowing when it would stop, and I knew how many were coming. It makes for a poor first impression when your host in exasperated simply by your arrival.”

The wizard considered that. “You may have a point, but Beorn is not a gentle hobbit, and he is not fond of dwarves.”

“All the more reason to get it over with.” Bilberry stood firm. “His ire will only grow as more and more dwarves are sprung upon him; best to tell him upfront.”

The company watched the exchange with great interest. Judging by the smirk on the king’s face, he found the whole thing rather amusing.

“Very well.” The wizard sighed. “Come along Bilberry.”

A hand fell on her shoulder. “Be cautious.”

“I’ll be fine.” She smiled at Thorin reassuringly and went to Gandalf. “Wait for me to wave you over, and then come out.”

She made to get verification from each dwarf before walking with Gandalf to meet their host. The skinchanger was very large. Taller even than Gandalf by at least a head, thickly muscled, and had an animalistic presence about him. If she’d seen him under other circumstances, she probably would have avoided him entirely.

“Good morning!” Gandalf called as they approached.

Beorn ignored them, continuing to chop wood with an axe the size of Bilberry.

Gandalf tried again, “Good morning.”

The axe was embedded in the stump and the skinchanger turned a withering look to the wizard. “Who are you?”

“Gandalf the Grey.” The wizard bowed. 

“Never heard of him.”

Bilberry smirked at Gandalf’s put out expression, but he continued valiantly. She had to cough to cover a giggle as Gandalf became more flustered when Beorn recognized Radagast’s name. The skinchanger looked down, apparently just noticing her, and knelt so she wasn’t craning her neck to meet his gaze.

“And who is this little one?”

“Bilberry Baggins,” she bowed. “I’m a hobbit from the Shire.”

“Long way from home, Little Bunny.”

“Our quest lies further still, but it’s a good cause, and a good story.” She took a chance. Elrond had said in Rivendell that everyone enjoyed a good story; maybe she could sway even the mighty skinchanger with their tale.

Beorn eyed her curiously. “Is it now?”

“Oh yes,” Gandalf confirmed. “And Bilberry is a master storyteller.”

“If you would allow our company respite in your home, I would be happy to tell it.” She offered.

The skinchanger looked between the two of them. “Is two a company?”

“No.” She admitted. Now for the hard part. “We’ve traveled with thirteen others, dwarves, and it would be my great pleasure to introduce you to them.”

Beorn did not look pleased. “Don’t like dwarves, Little Bunny.”

“I have met only these, but they have been quite pleasant, if occasionally boisterous,” she told him, then added with a grin, “and they have saved my life almost as many times as I’ve saved theirs.”

Beorn laughed uproariously, and hoisted her up onto his shoulder as he stood--much to her chagrin--and said, “Make your introductions. I would hear this story.”

She waved to Bofur at the window, requesting their presence. As they filed out, she named each dwarf. “Balin and Dwalin, sons of Fundin. Oin and Gloin, sons of Groin. Dori, Nori, and Ori, sons of Mari. Bofur and Bombur, sons of Bodur; Bifur son of Tafur. Fili and Kili, sons of Vili. And Thorin son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain.”

“So you are the one they call Oakenshield.” Beorn looked Thorin over with a critical eye before glancing to Bilberry on his shoulder. “Come, Little Bunny. Time for your story.”

Beorn led them to the cottage proper. She threw a helpless look to the dwarves as she past on her perch, but glared when a few of them looked ready to reach for their weapons. That would be of no help. So long as Beorn put her down when she asked, she’d allow the odd behavior, and there was no need for the others to come to her aid when she was fine.

Once inside, Beorn offered them sit at the table and then he put Bilberry in the chair next to his. She waited for the dwarves to settle and stop making noise before beginning, “As with many grand tales, this one begins with a meddling wizard…”

She took them back to that morning outside of Bag End, her start to this tale, and wove a picture of her smial invaded by a string of dwarrow, highlighting their rowdy merrimaking to emphasise the solemnity of their quest as it was outlined at her dinner table. She recalled the moving performance of their song in her sitting room and her resulting decision to join despite the dangers. Next she told of their ruse in Bree, to keep word of the quest from getting out and protecting the company. At the trolls, she extolled Kili’s bravery trying to save her and the other dwarves skill in battle, and ultimately her own cleverness that got them all out safely, only to be set upon by orcs! The race to Rivendell, the mystery of the map and moonrunes, their escape into the night. She cast Elrond as willing helper and Saruman as haughty opposition. Come time for the stone giants, she played up her own fear and Thorin’s selflessness, risking his life to save hers--leaving out the argument after--only for the company to be trapped and taken by goblins. Here she explained her separation from the group, but continued with a second-hand telling of what went on with the vile goblin king and his ultimate demise, going into her own tale of the Riddle Game with Gollum. Reunited at last with her dwarves, only to be attacked by Azog the Defiler. Come Thorin’s walk through fire to face his enemy, she left out her frustration and objections, instead expanding on his honor and bravery, even against insurmountable odds. She did tell of her worry when she saw him in the jaws of death and her need to do something to save him, even at the risk of her own life. He’d done no less for her, after all. Bilberry reenacted her face off with Azog and the dwarves surprise attack, the eagles rescue and her leap of faith, and then wrapped up the tale with their race to the cottage.

“Brave Little Bunny.” Beorn grinned. “A good tale, well told, even if it does not prove true.”

Affronted, she crossed her arms and muttered, “Of course it’s true.”

“We will see.” Beorn didn’t take offense at her tone. “Rest here; you will be safe while I confirm your story.”

He spoke a quiet word to one of his animals wandering around the house and then departed. When he was gone, the dwarves erupted in chatter, praising her lengthy tale, as if they were not witness to most of it themselves. Still, she thanked them. Telling stories either in voice or in ink was one of her favorite things to do, and it was wonderful to hear it was appreciated.

Breakfast was served by dogs on their hind legs which was a little odd, but then again, she was in the home of a man who turned into a bear at will, so odd was relative. After breakfast, Oin saw to her shoulder. Thankfully whatever paste he’d applied yesterday had staved off infection, and it was healing well. It would probably scar, but she didn’t mind.

Thorin was much less cooperative. He refused to remove his armor, stating he was fine, but Oin was also stubborn, adamant that he needed to check for infection and the Thorin should give his ribs a rest, they might be broken. Needless to say, they argued.

Dwalin pulled her outside when it became clear they were going to be at it for a while. Time for more sword practice it seemed.

”You survived your first skirmish. Well done.” Dwalin told her. “But your form was sloppy.”

“My form was terrified,” she corrected.

The dwarf shook his head. “Fear is good, it’ll keep you alive if you can control it. That’s where practice comes in. Repetition until it’s natural, it’s instinctive, you don’t have to think about it, your body will do it on its own.”

He put her through her paces, as he did every time, and she did her best, despite their audience. When she was sweaty and tired, Dwalin called it good for now and let her go, only to have Nori come up and hand her a handful of juggler’s balls.

“I don’t juggle.”

“Not a bad skill to learn, but not what we’re doing today. Bofur!”

Her friend jumped up onto the fence and smiled as he placed an apple on his hatted head.

“Knock the apple off.” Nori instructed, handing her the juggler’s balls again.

“If is miss?” She challenged. 

“That’s why it’s Bofur. He’ll still like you if you damage his face.” Nori insisted. “Go ahead. Give it a go.”

The others immediately started taking bets as to whether or not she’d hit her target, hit Bofur, or hit nothing. Apparently they didn’t have a lot of faith in her accuracy. 

Bilberry tossed the ball in her hand a couple times to test the weight and then threw it, knocking the apple off with a satisfying crunch.

Nori whistled. “Thought as much. Fili! Kili!”

The princes bounded up. Her next challenge was to hit another apple while it was tossed randomly between the boys and Bofur. Of course, Nori said tossed, the others took that to mean throw as hard and fast as possible in an effort to peg the others in the face. She watched for a moment, letting them have their fun, and then knocked the apple out of the air before Fili could catch it.

“Gotta say Lass, not sure sword is really your weapon.”

Bilberry shrugged. “I’ve had my sword for a week. I’ve been doing this,” she grabbed another apple from Bofur and threw it, slicing it in two perfect halves against Bifur’s boar spear, “since I was a faunt. Of course I’m going to be better at it.”

They were all distracted from further comment by Oin’s arrival and self-satisfied smirk. “That takes care of that.” 

“What did you do now, Brother?” Gloin asked. 

“Kept our king from dying of infection is what.”

Bilberry gave Nori the last ball and went back inside, flanked by the princes. When she saw Thorin, _asleep_ with his armor off and fresh bandages around his chest, empty cup in his hand, she knew at once what happened.

“He drugged him.” Fili said, awed.

Kili grabbed his brother’s shirt and started walking them back out. “He’s going to be so mad when he wakes up.”

“Stop running away.” She scolded. “He’s not going to be mad at _you._ ”

“We weren’t running away.” Kili challenged. 

“It’s called a tactical retreat.” Fili insisted.

Bilberry leveled them with an unimpressed glare, and directed both of them to sit next to their uncle. “I am going to see about getting his things washed, and a bath for myself. You two are going to sit here and keep him company until I come back. If he wakes up, try to keep him from killing the company’s only healer.”

“You can’t order us around; we’re princes!” Fili tried.

“Yeah. Royalty.” Kili puffed up proudly.

“I’m the closest thing the Shire has to a princess, so that doesn’t save you. Sorry boys.”

“You’re a princess?” Kili asked brightly.

“My grandfather is Thain; he rules the Shire--if you want to call it that--and I’ve family ties to the Brandybucks that see over Buckland,” she explained, “and I suppose _if_ hobbits had nobles the Baggins clan would number among them, but in truth, no. Hobbits haven’t nobles or royalty, so I am neither.” 

“You are a princess.” Fili shared a look with his brother and the both sat obediently next to their uncle, conspicuously compliant. 

They were up to something, she was sure, but she didn’t have time for any of their shenanigans. Bilberry gathered Thorin’s shirt and cloak and took them back out where she last saw the dwarves. Dori was a tailor, she hoped to convince him to mend Thorin’s cloak. It had been a gift from Dis, he’d said, she’d hate for it to be anything less than whole.

She found Dori in the garden watching over Ori as he sketched. “Dori, if I might beg a favor?”

“What can I do for you, Mistress Bilberry?” Dori asked.

“I know you’ve a hand for stitching, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to mend these for Thorin? He’s ah, recovering from Oin’s attentions at the moment and I think it would be nice if his effects were repaired when he awoke.”

The tailor took the clothes from her. “A fine thought, Mistress Bilberry. Shall I see to yours as well?”

She slipped her coat off and handed it to him. “That’s most kind.”

“They’ll be good as new in no time.”

“Thank you, Dori.” She bowed.

“Bilberry?”

“Yes, Ori?” She gave the youngest dwarf her attention. 

He shifted his pages absently and couldn’t quite meet her eyes, “I’m making a written record of the quest and, the thing is, I was hoping you’d be willing to sit for me for a time, so I could add your portrait to my record.”

Bilberry looked over the pages in Ori’s lap and saw several of them held sketches of the other dwarves, the places they’d stayed, even one of the trolls. They were rather good, and she told him so as she agreed to his request. 

Then she saw the book he was using as a flat surface. It was one of hers.

“I’m surprised you managed to hold on to this.” She grinned, running her finger along the spine of the book. 

“Oh, actually, my copy was lost when the ponies ran away. I found this one in Master Beorn’s library.” Ori told her.

Bilberry giggled. “You’re having me on.”

“Not at all, Mistress.” Dori shook his head. “Seems our host has a taste for stories.”

Well. Wasn’t that something else. 

She shook her head, still hardly believing it, as she made herself comfortable by the oak tree and let Ori sketch for a time, until he said he had enough to work from. As she pushed herself up, she felt an acorn dig into her palm. She picked it up and looked at the seed thoughtfully. A memento of the quest, like Ori’s drawings, didn’t sound like a bad idea. She pocketed the seed with a smile.

Now. A bath. The tub she found for bathing was huge, but it was serviceable. She washed herself, dried off with a towel provided by a sheep, of all things, and then redressed. She’d lost her pack, yet again, in the goblin caves, so she was without extra clothes. One shirt, one pair of pants, and one waistcoat missing all but one button. Unfortunate, but she’d just have to make do.

When she left the washroom, tying her hair in a messy knot to keep it out of her face, she heard what sounded like agitated grumbling from nearby; curious, she investigated, only to find Gandalf puffing on his pipe in the library Ori had mentioned finding her book in. Idly looking about, she noticed the complete collection of her work--minus the one Ori borrowed--along one shelf. 

“Gandalf, what’s wrong?” Bilberry asked, choosing to ignore the books in favor of her friend.

He seemed surprised by her arrival, and smiled tightly, “Oh. Nothing. Do not worry.”

Bilberry crossed her arms over her chest. “Something has you troubled, and that is never nothing.”

He sighed, “Dwarves are not the best guests, and Beorn bears them little love.”

“Beorn offered us rest and safety. He doesn’t seem the type to go back on his word.” She consoled. 

Gandalf puffed on his pipe, frown firmly in place. “Without Thorin to control them, I worry they may inadvertently wear out our welcome.”

“They respect Thorin, he does not control them.” She argued, mildly offended.

“Indeed,” Gandalf agreed. “I’m concerned nothing can, they certainly do not listen to me.”

With an attitude like that, Bilberry wasn’t surprised. She respected Gandalf a great deal, he’d always been a friend to her people, but she suspected he did not hold dwarrow in the same regard. A shame, really. She found dwarrow to be much more to her liking than quite a few people in the Shire. 

“There is nothing to worry about.” She told him firmly.

The wizard mumbled to himself, irritated. She left him to his pipe. If he was in a mood, there wasn’t anything she could say to lift him out of it. 

The sight that greeted her in the main room nearly sent her back to Gandalf with her own pipe. Gloin, Nori, Bifur, and Bofur were amusing some of the others with a game of skill. Nori upon Gloin shoulders, Bofur on Bifur’s, the two dwarves were attempting to knock buckets which were balanced on their heads off the other, Nori with a broom, Bofur with a mop. There were toppled chairs already in their wake, and Beorn’s animals eyed them worriedly. 

Bilberry cleared her throat loudly. 

“Bilberry!” The princes smiled until they saw her expression. At their fallen cheer, the others turned as well. 

She stared them all down, arms crossed, until Bofur and Nori climbed down and set their weapons aside. Bilberry took the buckets off their heads, flicking Bofur on the nose when he winked at her, and handed the buckets off to two dogs who had come up for them. 

“As fun as this game looks, it is not really one that should be done inside.” She reached for one very large chair, but Bifur took it for her, setting it upright. Bofur, Nori, and Gloin quickly followed suit. Satisfied that they had a handle on that task, she stepped away and continued, “Perhaps also without the use of household cleaning supplies?”

“The bees make Gloin nervous.” Bofur explained. 

“No business bein’ so big.” Gloin muttered. 

She shook her head fondly. “They mind their own business, Master Gloin; if you don’t bother them, they’ll leave you alone.”

Bilberry did a quick head count. Dori, Ori, Bombur, and Balin were elsewhere, but the others were accounted for, including a still sleeping Thorin. “Now, since we don’t know how long we’ll be here, I think we should make the most of it.”

“What did you have in mind, Lass?” Dwalin asked.

“For starters, while nothing is chasing us, I think we should take the time to let Oin to continue to care for our injuries, however minor.” She held up a hand to their protests. “I understand that dwarrow are hardier than hobbits, but we did a lot of falling and fighting. Even small hurts can be made worse by inattention.”

“Aye,” Oin said. “She’s right. I’d like to make sure no one else is hiding an injury.”

“After you’ve let Oin see to your hurts, I want each of you to make use of the bath. It’s not as large as the ones I hear you’re used to, but it will still get you clean.”

“I think the lass is saying we smell bad.” Bofur joked. 

“Yes, she is.” Bilberry made a face. 

They laughed, but they also did as she asked. Oin took them a few at a time to the washroom to treat injuries and let them bathe. Bilberry left them to it to find the four missing dwarves. Bofur and Bifur went with her, no doubt looking for Bombur. She found all four out near a large tub, scrubbing clothes. Thorin’s cloak and shirt were already hanging up to dry, along with her coat, mended as she’d asked. Dori had apparently taken it upon himself to clean the clothes of anyone who still had extra sets and had recruited some help. 

Dori smiled at her. “Mistress Bilberry, if you’ve any washing needs done, we’d be happy to take care of it as well.”

“Regretfully, I have only what I’m wearing.” She told him. “I lost my pack to the goblin caves.”

Dori tutted, but she wasn’t the only one to have lost their things, so it wasn’t unexpected. She told them of the plan for them all to see Oin in the washroom at some point today, and they agreed readily. She offered to help with the washing, but they said they were almost done anyway, and not to worry about it. 

Her own injuries seen to and washing done, she went back inside. She’d promised to watch over Thorin, after all. Fili and Kili told her that Thorin had woken up briefly, but he was asleep again. She thanked them and they ran off to the washroom.

Bofur and Bifur joined her back inside and settled themselves near the fire, waiting their turn with the healer quietly. Bifur whittled while Bofur napped, snoring lightly before a full minute had passed. Slowly the clean dwarves rejoined them in the main room, keeping mostly quiet. When the four from outside came in for their turn, Bofur and Bifur went with them. Eventually everyone was mended and clean and back in the main room. Rather than get rowdy again, most of the dwarves settled in for a nap. She found herself at the center of a group of sleeping dwarrow, clustered around their king, and soon succumbed to the pull of sleep as well. At least until lunch, she told herself.


	9. Cultural Exchange

When Bilberry woke, it was to Bombur leaving a plate of food for her and Thorin. She thanked him and tucked into her food, noticing that the other than Thorin, still asleep next to her, the other dwarves were missing. 

“Where is everyone?” She whispered.

“About. Don’t worry, Miss Bilberry. They’re behaving.” 

Bilberry smiled in thanks and Bombur left in the direction of the porch. Once her share of the food was gone, she set the plate aside. She didn’t want to wake Thorin if he was so tired; the food would be there when he woke. She found herself humming her mother’s tune quietly for Thorin while he slept. She’d been thinking seriously about putting words to it recently.

“Is it common for hobbit princesses to sing over the beds of kings as they sleep?” Thorin asked when the song finished.

She hadn’t realized he was awake; she blushed. “I am not a princess.”

“My sister-sons seem to think otherwise.” He teased.

“But you know better; I’ve explained we haven’t kings or such.” Bilberry said, poking him in the shoulder. 

He caught her hand before she could pull away. “Still you sing over my bed.”

“I…” she knew she was blushing like mad. She was ready to dismiss the notion, claim she had been humming and that his proximity was merely happenstance, but something in the way he brushed his thumb along her palm and the intense look in his gaze as he looked at her made her change her mind. “I might have done. I wanted you to know you were safe, that someone was here while you recovered.”

They were both silent while Thorin continued to rub small circles onto her skin. The king seemed to be gathering his thoughts. Anxious to hear them though she was, Bilberry didn’t interrupt or rush him. They’d had a couple of almost moments, she didn’t think she was just being ridiculously hopeful, and she wanted to know if it was possible that Thorin cared for her too.

“I’ve not the tools here, but if I did, I would craft for you a gift worthy of your attentions.” Thorin stated.

“You already have my attention.”

Thorin sat up, and she couldn’t help but admire the bunch of muscles across is chest and abdomen as he did so. He was so different than the soft bellies common to the Shire, but she liked it. She was smaller than a hobbit of her comfortable status; too many walking holidays to Bree for a proper hobbit pooch, but she was not as solid as the dwarrowdam that Thorin was likely used to.

“I want there to be no cultural misunderstanding, Bilberry Baggins.” Thorin pulled her out of her musings. “It is my wish to court you, if you would allow me the honor.”

Her heart fluttered, and she believed she would float away were Thorin not holding her hand. Somehow she managed to speak without fumbling her words. “That is my wish as well.”

“Are you certain?” Thorin brought her closer, tugging lightly on her hand. She went willingingly. “I am to be King; I would not fault you for not wishing the responsibility--”

“I have never run from responsibility Thorin Oakenshield; my only concern is that your people would not accept a hobbit standing by their King.” She confessed. Bilberry was not a fool, she knew that a courtship with Thorin would include being with a King and all that entailed. It was one of the reasons she had tried not to wish for it too much. Not that she believed she could not, but that she should not. His people would want a real dwarven queen for their king.

“They could not deny my choice to have my One at my side.” Thorin kissed the palm of her hand. 

“Would that matter if I couldn’t give you children? Even if our two races could have children, they wouldn’t be full dwarrow.”

“I have heirs already.” Thorin kissed her wrist, nipping lightly at the soft skin there.

She inhaled sharply at his attention and scolded softly, “I am trying to have a serious conversation.”

“Certainly, no one is stopping you.” The twinkle in his eye told her that Thorin was not so entirely different from his nephews as he’d like others to believe. 

“You are making it difficult to focus.”

“I have thought of little beyond having my lips on your skin for far too long; at last I _am_ focused.” He pulled her fully onto his lap then and slid a hand to the back of her neck. She unconsciously shifted, leaning into his touch, opening her neck to his exploration. 

“Tell me of dwarven courting.” She requested, determined to have this conversation. She too, desired no cultural miscommunications.

“The First Gift is the only required exchange, though many choose to gift their intended several times during the courtship. The courtship braid is then braided into the hair once the First Gift has been accepted. The braids are only removed when they are replaced by the marriage braids.” He told her, running his lips against her throat at occasional intervals. He pulled back long enough to look her in the eye when he asked, “How do hobbits court?”

“This may surprise you, but it generally involves a lot of food.” She got the chuckle she’d been looking for, and added, “It starts with a declaration of intent; it means the pair are interested in courtship rather than just cavorting like tweens. After the declaration the two will have to prove to their future relations that they are serious about the match; this usually involves making dinner or tea for the heads of family until they decide the meal is acceptable. The young lady will then make dinner for her intended, the young man will gift her with flowers or produce from his garden, they’ll go on walks and so on until the wedding.”

“I have no garden, nor skill in growing things.” Thorin admitted. 

“Do not worry about it.” She smiled and kissed a stubble-rough cheek. “Seeing as you are to be King of your people, I believe we should follow dwarrow custom.”

“Would you ask for nothing from your own traditions?” 

“I am the head of the Baggins family, so you don’t have to worry about proving yourself to anyone.” Bilberry promised.

Thorin grinned. “You do not wish me to make you dinner and tea until you are satisfied?” He was teasing her. 

“We exchanged declarations of intent already; that is good enough for me.” She stated honestly. 

Thorin kissed her then, a sweet, chaste meeting of lips that stole her breath away. Bilberry had certainly been kissed before, though she could not recall one that measured up to this. Thorin forced nothing, there was no clash for control, just a soft press of lips together, gentle despite his strength.

One of them, she wasn’t sure who, pushed the kiss from sweet to steamy. They abandoned attempts at conversation in favor of another exchange. Heated kisses, clutching fingers, and teasing nibbles distracted the both of them thoroughly until a sharp clearing of a throat interrupted them. Embarrassed at being caught, she buried her face in Thorin’s neck and groaned.

“Dwalin,” Thorin rumbled beneath her, “this is important, I trust.”

“Beggin your pardon,” Dwalin didn’t sound apologetic or contrite in the least, but he was grinning when she snuck a peek at him, “I was just coming to check on you.”

“As you can see, I am fine.”

“Aye,” Dwalin agreed. “I should just leave you to it, then? Here, where anyone could walk in?”

Now she blushed; he was correct of course. The front room was hardly the place for this. How far would they have gotten if Dwalin hadn’t walked in when he did? What if Fili or Kili had walked in, or poor Ori? Gracious, she’d never hear the end of it if Bofur stumbled upon them. No, best to relocate. 

She sat up and set her clothes and hair to rights before standing. “Point made, Master Dwalin. If you’ll excuse us…” She held her hand out to Thorin, and he took it with a mischievous smirk. Bilberry snagged the plate of food she’d set aside, and then guided him away, ignoring Dwalin’s amused chuckle behind them.

Bilberry took Thorin to the washroom; it was only fair since she’d made the rest of the company bathe as well. She handed him the food and told him to eat while she got the tub ready, chatting all the while about what he’d missed. Nori’s silly tests of her aim, Ori finding her stories in the library, and how she’d had the others check in with Oin and a hot bath earlier when she’d caught half the company behaving like tweens without supervision. The plumbing at Beorn’s was good enough that she wasn’t fetching pail after pail of water to fill it, an arduous task for a tub so big, and none the worse for wear after being used by twelve dwarves. She made sure the water was nice and hot before declaring her satisfaction. 

When she turned to face Thorin again, the food was gone, and he was staring at her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. He smiled, arms crossed, as he leaned against the wall. “What now?” 

“I assume you know how to bathe,” she teased.

“Will your modesty be sending you from the room?” Thorin asked, already removing the bandages around his chest.

Bilberry willed the blush from her cheeks as she shook her head. “Only if that is your wish.”

“I do not wish you to be uncomfortable.” Thorin said seriously.

“I am not uncomfortable.” She told him. “I am excited and nervous. I’m not entirely without experience, but it has been a while since I’ve had someone I wished to be with.”

Thorin took her hand and kissed her knuckles, her wrist, up her arm, to her neck. He pulled her back to his chest as he left a trail of kisses up her neck, nipping just under her jaw, before pulling the lobe of her ear between his teeth. She shivered as pleasure swept down her senses. Thorin rumbled, pleased, and explored her ear with lips and teeth and tongue until she was fairly panting in his arms. 

“The bath, Thorin.” She managed.

“Very well.” He mused as his hand brushed against her curves. With only the one button, her waistcoat offered little in the way of resistance, and soon he was pulling her free of it. 

“I have already washed,” she smiled.

Thorin hummed, tugging the tails of her shirt out of her breeches,“So you wish to simply watch as I bathe?”

“That was part of the plan,” Bilberry mused. Still, she didn’t stop him as his fingers deftly undid the buttons of her shirt, and she danced out of his hold as he removed her shirt. Standing in her breast band and breeches, she placed her hands on her hips and raised a challenging eyebrow. 

“What else did your plan entail?” 

She took a step closer, then another, unhurried. “Seeing to the care and wellbeing of a certain injured dwarrow.” Bilberry raised her hands, tracing her fingers lightly over Thorin’s injuries. They were not as severe as she’d feared, thankfully, and Oin’s care was holding up well. 

“I am well.” Thorin promised, claiming her hands in his own once more. “The wizard healed much of the damage, Oin has stitched the wounds closed, and time has done the rest.”

“I don’t know… Oin said you should take it easy.” 

“I slept half the day away; I have taken my ease.” Thorin insisted.

Bilberry slipped her hands free and trailed them down the firm plane of Thorin’s stomach, coming at last to the ties that held his breeches. She worked them loose while Thorin took her mouth in another kiss. His fingers snaked their way into her hair, scratching delightfully against her scalp while his thumb traced the line of her ear gently. It was almost enough to make her own fingers falter in their task, but she managed. 

Thorin stepped free and stood before her in all his glory. Dwarves certainly weren’t ones for modesty, but she didn’t have to avert her gaze this time. Fighting a blush at her boldness, Bilberry swept her eyes over his form slowly, appreciatively, and her excitement and nerves grew as she realized that Thorin was a fair bit bigger than any of her previous partners.

He held himself still as her eyes lingered and she realized he was waiting for her to give him a sign that she was willing. His own want was rather obvious, but he would not move until she gave him her consent. This was a King, a commander, used to giving orders and being obeyed, but he was giving her the power to say no despite his obvious desire. The affection she felt for him grew even more.

Smiling, she tugged at the ties of her own breeches with one hand and beckoned him forward with the other. In one step, he closed the distance between them and claimed her lips in another searing kiss. One hand cupped her cheek while the other made short work of the other set of ties on her breeches. Together they worked the garment free, and then Thorin’s warm hand palmed the curve of her hip, digging his fingers deliciously into her skin.

As he slipped his hand into her small clothes, she felt the tension in his arm that warned her he was about to do something incredibly manly, but incredibly inconvenient. She pulled her mouth away from his long enough to chastise him, “Don’t you dare tear my only smallclothes Thorin. I need them intact, please.”

He chuckled, “Since you said please…” 

About to scold him for teasing her, she lost her train of thought when he dropped to his knees and kissed a trail down her stomach, nipping lightly at her hip as his hands carefully removed her smalls. He brought them all the way down her legs, barely there touches of his rough hands against the soft skin of her legs sent pleasure straight to her core. Carefully, she stepped out of the garment, but rather than stand, Thorin remained where he was and continued to pepper kisses into her skin as he hands made their way back up her legs. 

Her hand found its way to his shoulder to steady herself as one of his hands squeezed her ass and the other found its way to her chest. Even through the fabric of the breast band, his hand was wonderfully warm and he brushed his thumb over her nipple. She gasped softly, unable to stop herself. It had really been far, far too long since she’d been intimate with anyone if just a graze over cloth was enough to make her weak at the knees.

Thorin rose a little, still on his knees, so that his head was even with her chest and carefully freed her from her last article of clothing, tossing it to the side with the rest of her things. His hands snaked up her shoulders, and he hesitated--just long enough for her to notice--before releasing her hair from its confines and brushing it gently with his fingers as it settled over her shoulders.

“You are radiant.” Thorin whispered, coaxing another small gasp from her as he brushed a few fingers over the shell of her ear. 

Feeling bold, she moved the hands on his shoulders up the line of his strong neck into his hair and urged him to stand so she could kiss him. He moaned into her kiss and lifted her off her feet, guiding her legs around his waist, and carried her to the tub.

The water in the tub was almost cool by time they actually got around to cleaning themselves, but Bilberry had never felt better as a relaxed and sated Thorin combed the tangles from her damp curls and wove the courting braids into her hair. She diligently followed his instructions as he taught her how to add the braids to his hair, and kissed him once more when she’d finished. 

They redressed and made their way back to the main room, though the only one there to witness their return was Dwalin. He smiled and toasted them with his mug, but made no other comment. The room was filled suddenly with dwarves as the company made their way to the dining room for the evening meal, and it took no time at all for one of them to notice the courtship braids.

“Amadnam!” Kili shouted and gathered her up in hug, lifting her entirely off the ground. 

“I don’t know what that means.” Bilberry whispered, poking him in the shoulder until he put her down.

“Aunt.” Thorin told her quietly, grinning.

Before she could comment, Fili picked up where his brother left off and swung her around in another hug. “Welcome to the family.”

She blushed slightly, but smiled. “Thank you.”

The others were more sedate, but not by much, and there was boisterous celebration for the next few hours until Bilberry fell asleep on Thorin’s shoulder, utterly content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The word that the brothers use, Amadnam, is a combination of the two words for Mother and Sister since all the sources I looked at failed to list an actual word for aunt. Closest I found was something along the lines of "sister of father/mother", but it was very long and also not technically accurate since she is going to be "wife of brother of mother"
> 
> I prefer my hodge-podge, but if someone knows of the actual word, feel free to let me know!


	10. Captured

Beorn returned the next morning. He spent the day confirming their story, apparently. Several orc heads now ornamented the fence, so she assumed he ran into some trouble. Said trouble only helped their case, however, as the skinchanger agreed to help them beyond providing a place to rest. She and Balin spent the day acquiring supplies for their trip through Mirkwood. Beorn cautioned that the forest was not what it once was, that nothing would be safe to consume within the wood, and they would be in danger even on the elven path. He gave them permission to fill their packs from his stores for the journey and left them to it while he attended to other business. 

Bilberry and Balin worked steadily, making sure they had all that they would need for the trip through the wood. 

Working through the stores of food made Bilberry wonder about something, though, so she asked Balin. “Do you know what will happen after the mountain is reclaimed?”

“We rebuild.” Balin gave her a grim smile. “If we survive.”

Bilberry frowned. Not only was that response rather pessimistic, it was also vague. “Have you give much thought to how?”

“Some. Once Erebor is ours, and we’ve reclaimed what was lost, Thorin will be able to call our people home.” 

“Balin,” Bilberry stopped cataloging food and turned to the dwarf, “what will you do for food? Or trade? Cities, _kingdoms_ , are not built overnight.” 

He sighed, “I know, lass. Erebor relied on Dale for our agriculture, but that city was lost when Smaug attacked, the land around the mountain ruined. The gold in the mountain can buy us food, though. If we can wrest it from the dragon.”

“That can’t be a long-term plan.” She denied, dread sneaking into her gut. Had they no plan for after the mountain was reclaimed? 

“You’d be surprised, Lass, the wealth of Erebor is no small hoard.” Balin chuckled. 

She dropped the topic, unwilling to hear more. They really had no other plan than to buy everything. For thousands of dwarves. Forever. Bilberry refused to accept that; she’d have to get a look at this Dale and ‘ruined land’ before she’d even consider that a valid plan.

After double and triple checking their numbers, Balin and Bilberry were satisfied with their supplies and she left to go find Beorn, to thank their host for his generosity.

She found him on the porch talking with Gandalf, but stopped to listen when she heard the severity of his tone.

“I know that this quest is not all that it seems.”

Gandalf huffed, “The dwarves seek to reclaim their homeland--”

“The orcs are massing, a sorcerer walks the old fortress, the dead are seen walking near the High Fells of Rhudaur, and a wizard pushes for the reclaiming of the Watchtower of the North?” Beorn gave Gandalf a very serious look indeed. “You would have me believe it is coincidence?”

What in Yavanna’s mercy was going on? Bilberry cursed herself a fool for eavesdropping again. There was obviously much that Gandalf was not saying about this quest or the state of the world. Of course, Gandalf the Grey was constitutionally incapable of giving a straight answer to anyone, so there would be no point in asking the wizard to tell her what was going on, but… Beorn might be able to shed some light on the matter.

If she dared to ask. If she wanted to know. 

“Master Beorn, I was just looking for you.” Bilberry acted like she’d just noticed they were there as she stepped out onto the porch. “Oh dear, pardon my manners. I interrupted something, didn’t I?”

“Not at all, my dear.” Gandalf smiled. “I was just on my way inside.”

The wizard surrendered his seat and gave host and hobbit a polite bow before going inside. Bilberry hopped up onto the vacant bench and made herself comfortable before turning to Beorn. The shapeshifter was watching her carefully.

“Little Bunny should know better than to eavesdrop.” Beorn chastised lightly.

Bilberry had the decency to look ashamed before ploughing ahead. “What is the Watchtower of the North?”

“An old name for the mountain, from a time long ago.” Beorn said. “Keep both eyes open, Little Bunny. I fear dark times are ahead.”

He stood and left, having told her all he was apparently willing to. His warning and the conversation she’d overheard stayed with her the rest of the day. Needless to say, by time Bilberry laid down for sleep, curled up next to Thorin, she was anxious about the next leg of the journey and what was happening elsewhere. He tried to soothe her, gently rubbing her back until she relaxed and fell asleep. 

The next day, astride Beorn’s ponies they made a mad dash for the forest. They could hear the orcs on their tails, but the ponies meant they never caught up. As ordered, they released the ponies at the edge of the forest.

“This forest feels sick.” Bilberry observed, unease settling deep in her gut. “Is there no other option?”

“Not unless we wanted to go one hundred miles north, or twice that distance south.” Gandalf was being cagey again. His agitation was making her very nervous.

“We cannot afford a delay like that.” Thorin told her quietly. “We must go through.”

“Not my horse!” Gandalf hurried out of the elven gate to his horse. “Do not stray from the path, you will not find it again if you do. Cross the river only at the stone bridge; _do not_ drink the water.”

“You’re leaving.” She glared accusingly. How could he do this?

“I must.” Gandalf apologized. “I would stay if I could, but this cannot wait, and neither can you.”

She followed him as he secured his horse’s pack, throwing nervous glances over her shoulder at the trees. “It feels as if this forest means us harm. Is that even possible…?”

The wizard looked down at her and smiled, trying to comfort her. “You have a good head on your shoulders Bilberry, and good instincts. Use both and you will see them through. Thorin made a fine choice of queen.”

“Thank you.” Her hand went to the courtship braid in her hair automatically.

“Though, you could do better.”

“Gandalf!”

“A word of caution and advice,” Gandalf gave her a serious look, “the dwarves are covetous in all regards. He will protect you, fiercely, even from those you may not wish protecting.”

She crossed her arms and glared. She’d had quite enough of these disparaging remarks to dwarven character. “Anything else?”

“Exercise restraint, my dear. Dwarves may have difficulty conceiving, but that has never been the case for hobbits. This will be no different.”

“You’re sure?” She gripped his robe, desperate for a straight answer. “We could, even though we’re not…”

Gandalf’s features softened and he squeezed her shoulder lightly. “My dear, it has been my experience that hobbits are a remarkable people. In this case, remarkably fertile.”

She laughed despite her worry, and Gandalf smiled before adopting a serious expression once more. “Stay on the path. And do not enter that mountain without me.”

Personally, she doubted the dwarves would wait. If Durin’s Day arrived, they’d open the door with or without Gandalf, and she couldn’t blame them. They had one shot, they shouldn’t be expected to give it up on the timely arrival of a wizard.

She found her way back to Thorin and tried to smile, but she felt the expression fell a little flat. He kissed her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before leading them into the forest. Thanks to Beorn, they had food for a week if they rationed, and water for longer. They would be fine.

They were not fine.

The path was overgrown, there was almost no light coming through the canopy, the air was a cloying thing that made breathing as task, time became an illusion, the world heavy and slow, and when they camped they couldn’t use a fire for the insects it attracted. Bilberry had to hum to herself every night to be calm enough to sleep, and even then only if she had one of her dwarves beside her. It was _awful_.

They did find the river. They did not find the stone bridge. Remnants of the bridge were all that remained of the promised safe path. Thankfully, Kili spotted a boat on the far bank, and with a little rope, the company was able to pull it over. It was small though, only big enough for a couple of them at a time. As the smallest, she and Ori went first to test the stability. It took them across despite its dubious appearance, and the others joined them slowly.

No one saw the stag until it was too late. It knocked Bombur into the water in its panicked flight and the dwarf fell immediately unconscious. He was close enough to the bank that the company was able to pull him out, but he would not wake. Oin promised he was simply sleeping, not in danger for now, but the company was forced to carry him as they continued.

When the food ran out, Bilberry could hardly believe it. They rationed! Had they truly been in this forest for a week?

If that were true… she’d been without her herbs for long enough, she should have started bleeding by now. With the forest and the stress, she hadn’t even _noticed_! But. It might not be… that. It could be stress. Perfectly reasonable for her body to say it wasn’t up for that nonsense until she was out of danger and had a few days of regular eating. 

She’d keep an eye on it. No need to be alarmed. Yet.

Everyone was… acting very oddly. The forest was getting to them, addling their minds, causing them to see and hear things, and they’d lost the path entirely. Nothing she did could snap them out of it, and her own thoughts were sluggish. She needed air… 

“Thorin!” She tugged on his sleeve. The dwarf looked at her vacantly. Bilberry grasped his face with both of her hands. “Thorin, look at me.”

Slowly his eyes focused on her. “Bilberry…”

“I want to get a look above the trees; I need you to stay here.”

He nodded. “Find a way out of this cursed forest.”

“Stay here.” She kissed him and then jumped into the nearest tree. Bilberry climbed as fast as she was able, but it was hard. She was hungry, tired, and the air was like moving through molasses--was it the air?--but she broke through the canopy at last and took her first real breath of air in days. At first, all she could do was bask in the warm glow of the sun. How could she not have realized how very cold she was? The tension left her body as she soaked up the sun, and then she was finally able to look around. She could see the edge of the forest and the Lonely Mountain just on the other side of a lake. The were almost out!

Movement caught her eye. The tops of trees several yards away began rustling, like something large was moving through them. And moving closer. Quick as she could manage, she dropped back down to the others, warning on her lips, but she caught her foot in a _web_. The whole area was covered in webs, how had she missed that on her way up? A massive spider descended on her and she hit her head on a branch in her effort to jump away.

When she woke, she was covered head to toe in sticky webs, cocooned like a fly, and there was a monstrous spider above her. She pulled her sword free and stabbed the spider in the belly, killing it with a screech. Bilberry tore her way free of the webs and got to her feet. She was still in the trees, but there were branches enough to walk on, and she needed to find the company without being seen.

The ring.

She slipped it out of her pocket and put it on. Like last time, colors faded and the world seemed slower, but not like it had been in the forest. Now she was aware. To her surprise, she could suddenly hear talking. From the _spiders_. They had the company alright, and they were planning on eating them. Bilberry picked up a branch and threw it far away, attracting the spiders’ attention when it landed. Almost all of them scurried off to investigate, leaving just one as guard. Sneaking up behind it, she stabbed it, though not fatally. 

It whirled around and hissed, “It stings! What is it?”

In answer, she stabbed it in the face. The beast fell, screeching “Stings!” as it crashed to the forest below. 

“Sting.” She murmured, looking at her sword. “That’s a good name. Sting.”

With Sting, she cut through the webs holding the company aloft in their cocoons. They fell slowly through the multitude of webs, but it was a hard enough landing to wake them, even Bombur. She took off the ring before making her way down as fast as possible. A spider delayed her, but she cut it down with a thrust through the skull. It dragged her down as it fell, but she landed on top when it crashed in the middle of the dwarves. 

Bilberry wrenched Sting free and shouted, “Company coming for dinner, gentlemen.”

“We’ll give them a warm welcome!” Thorin growled, drawing Orcrist. 

The battle seemed to give the dwarrow their minds back and with a vengeance. As the spiders descended, the company tore into them with axe, sword, hammer, and bow. Bilberry, for her part, tried to stay out of the way. She stepped to the side and put her ring back on, giving her the advantage of stealth. She kept to the edges, aware the others couldn’t see her either, and sliced at incoming or escaping spiders as she moved. 

When the elves arrived, she was relieved for all of thirty seconds; then they held the dwarves at sword and arrow point. There were far too many elves for her to do anything about freeing them, even if she were willing to kill the elves. They were haughty and arrogant, but not the enemy. Not really. She could do nothing but watch and follow as the company was disarmed and marched through the forest to the elven kingdom. 

She had to bite her tongue to keep quiet when Bofur asked Thorin, “Where’s Bilberry?”

Thorin struggled, but the elves were having none of it and he was unable to break free to search for her. Bilberry sent a silent prayer for him to calm down; she could do more invisible than as a captive. 

The forest around the elven kingdom felt healthier, the air cleaner. The palace itself was beautiful, but wilder than the Last Homely House. Similarly, its residents were beautiful, but wilder. Sylvan elves. All but their king, Thranduil. At first, when the company was split, she was torn which group to follow, but ultimately decided to follow Thorin; he’d likely be brought to the others afterwards anyway. She lingered in the shadows as Thorin was brought to the throne room to meet with Thranduil. 

The elven king was coldly beautiful, as all his race were, but something about him rubbed her the wrong way. Maybe it was bias from the stories of their flight and Thranduil’s betrayal, or maybe the condescending way he spoke to Thorin, but… despite his physical appearance, she just didn’t see Thranduil as lovely, unlike every other elf she’d seen.

It came as absolutely no surprise to her when Thorin cursed out the elf and spat at his deal. Personally, it didn’t seem like a bad one, but that counted on Thranduil keeping his word. Which, as Thorin pointed out so… eloquently, the elf king had not done last time he dealt with dwarves. 

He ordered Thorin locked away and she followed at a distance. She was right, he was taken to the others. Most were in separate cells, but they were within hearing distance of each other. 

“Did he offer you a deal?” Balin asked.

“He did. I told him he could”--the following words were in Khuzdul, but probably unflattering and anatomically impossible if she knew Thorin--”him and all his kin!”

“Well. That’s that then. A deal was our only hope.” Balin reprimanded. 

“Not our only hope.” Thorin smiled. “Come out of your shadows, burglar.”

She danced into the shadows long enough to take the ring off and then stepped into the light to the relieved cheers of the company. “How did you know I was there?”

“You have a very distinctive disapproving sigh.” Thorin teased.

Bilberry reached through the bars and allowed Thorin to clasp her hand even as she scolded, “You should not have cursed the elf so, even if he did deserve it. It will make getting out of here tricky.”

“My faith is not misplaced. You will find a way.”

“It may take time.” She warned him. “The palace is large and I will need to evade patrols while I look for an escape route.”

“Be cautious, but swift as you can.”

Noise from above signaled a guard’s approach. Bilberry stepped out of sight and slipped the ring on just before an elf brought food for the dwarves. Her own stomach threatened to announce its emptiness, but she stepped further along the path before it rumbled, demanding attention. 

She’d need to eat. She’d gone without for… a day? Maybe two. Escape would not happen today; she stole away after the elf, on the hunt for the kitchens. The elf led her right to them and she was able to knick a few morsels here and there without anyone noticing. Once full, she began to scout. 

Bilberry found her way back to the throne room without meaning to. Thranduil was there, though not in his lofty chair. She nearly had a heart attack when he seemed to know she was there, but another elf, the red-haired female that had been among their captors, stepped out of the shadows instead. They discussed the spiders and the sickness in the wood, and Bilberry ground her teeth to keep silent. Could he not see that the darkness affected everyone? Or did he simply not care? Content to believe himself safe behind his walls even though his captain of the guard told him the infestation lingered and grew with every passing day. The blatant disregard for life not his own was appalling. 

Bilberry followed the captain, Tauriel, around. Hopefully she’d patrol the grounds a little, let Bilberry get the lay of the land. Instead, the elf went to the dungeons and just watched the dwarves. Bilberry found that to be less than helpful.

Another elf arrived to talk with Tauriel, and Bilberry recognized him as another of their captors. They spoke in Sindarin, so she couldn’t follow the conversation; she understood the name Legolas though. The blond elf was Thranduil’s son. When they left, she didn’t follow, too tired to keep up and keep silent.

She needed to find somewhere to sleep… a shadowy corner would suffice for a time. Bilberry settled herself down to sleep, uncomfortable and tense, but within earshot of her dwarves. It was enough to let her sleep.


	11. No Easy Escape

Days followed the same pattern. Scout, steal food, scout, talk to dwarves, steal food, scout, find corner to sleep. The only time she wasn’t wearing the ring was when she spoke to the dwarves, and she was beginning to notice some fatigue. When she wore the ring, colors were muted, sound distant, and time moved a little slower, but she started to feel like… she was fading into the greyness of that world. If she didn’t take it off occasionally she wasn’t sure she’d even notice, and that worried her. Would she vanish entirely if she wore it too long?

The dwarves picked up on her discomfort but didn’t know the cause. She avoided talking about it, saying only that she wasn’t sleeping well. Dreaming with the ring on was… disturbing to say the least, so it wasn’t a lie.

Two things happened ten days into their captivity. First, Bilberry woke up nauseous, and second Thorin was not in his cell when she visited the dwarves. 

“Where is he?” She asked. 

“Meeting with Thranduil.” Balin told her. “He’s been gone a while, Lass.”

Bilberry frowned at his empty cell. “Is that good or bad?”

“Knowing Uncle…?” Fili shrugged, but she could see the tension around his eyes. He was worried. 

Bilberry squeezed his hand. “I’ll find him.”

“We know you will, Amadnam.” Kili smiled.

She was hardly out of sight before she had the ring on and was running to the throne room. It was empty and she cursed. If he wasn’t here and wasn’t in his cell, maybe a more private meeting area? She found the royal wing three days ago and went there looking either for Thranduil or maybe Thorin had been given guest quarters? Unlikely, but at this point she was willing to take a chance on anything. She found Thranduil, but no Thorin. The elf was speaking to his son.

“--you plan on keeping him there?” Legolas asked. 

“As long as it takes, my son. Thorin Oakenshield will break separated from his precious mountain, and now, without their leader, the others may agree to my terms.”

“Do you think they would go against their king?”

Thranduil scoffed. “A king without a kingdom and without the Arkenstone will command no dwarf indefinitely. They will cave to their own greed before long.”

Bilberry found herself walking up to Thranduil, hand raised, but managed to stop herself in time. Attacking the elf king was unimaginably foolish, but oh so tempting.

“As you say, father.” Legolas bowed and departed. 

Bilberry left with him, not trusting herself to stay in Thranduil’s company. Legolas met with a few other guards who nodded and left before making his way to the practice fields. Uninterested in elven feats of skill, she backtracked and went to the kitchens. It was only a little while before dinner, and she could follow the elf bringing Thorin his food. Wherever he was, they would still feed him. Surely.

When the elves left to feed the prisoners, she followed. Two elves provided the usual fare for the company, but no one broke off from the others, and when they’d delivered twelve plates, they left. She followed them back to the kitchens to see if they went back, but no. It seemed that Thorin wouldn’t be getting dinner. She’d wait for breakfast then. Finding somewhere to sleep in the kitchens was a chore, but she managed to find a quiet, out of the way spot to close her eyes. Kitchens, as it turned out, were busy places. Even in the middle of the night crew was bustling about preparing food or sorting goods. It kept her on edge and made it impossible to really sleep, but dozes here and there sufficed.

Breakfast for the prisoners was bread and cheese, but it was food and not moldy. She stole a nibble or two as the elves went about preparing a much larger meal for the other residents. This time, she counted. Thirteen plates left the kitchen bound for the dungeons, so she made herself follow, despite her nausea and tiredness. Bilberry followed the thirteenth plate when one of the elves broke off from the rest. He went deeper into the dungeons, down twisting corridors she wasn’t sure she’d be able to navigate on her own, until he came to a door. The elf opened the door and immediately closed it behind him before Bilberry could slip through. She waited until the door opened again and dashed in before it closed. 

The hallway beyond was depressingly damp and dank, lined with thick wooden doors each with only a small, barred window too high for her to see through. The hallway went on a ways and turned around a corner. There could be guards posted, she couldn’t just start shouting for Thorin, though she was tempted. She scouted instead, walking the length of the passages until she was fairly certain there were no guards anywhere nearby.

Then she heard it. Humming. Quiet, especially with the ring on, so she took it off. It was her mother’s song hummed in a low bass. 

Thorin.

He was humming the song she used to comfort herself, the one she hummed over his bed at Beorn’s. 

Bilberry joined in on the next verse, but instead of humming, she sang. She’d been thinking about it since Kili suggested it, and she had finally found the right words. 

_“Land of gold and land of jewel_   
_Land that gave us birth and blessing_   
_Land that calls us ever homewards_   
_We will go home under the mountain_

_We will go home, we will go home_   
_We will go home under the mountain_   
_We will go home, we will go home_   
_We will go home under the mountain_

_Land of Durin's line enduring_   
_Land that gives us hope and mem’ries_   
_Hear our singing hear our longing_   
_We will go home under the mountain_

_We will go home, we will go home_   
_We will go home under the mountain_   
_We will go home, we will go home_   
_We will go home under the mountain_

_Land of stone and metal gleaming_   
_Land that gave us joy and sorrow_   
_Land that gave us love and laughter_   
_We will go home under the mountain_

_We will go home, we will go home_   
_We will go home under the mountain_   
_We will go home, we will go home_   
_We will go home under the mountain_

_When the land is there before us_   
_We have gone home under the mountain_   
_We will go home, we will go home_   
_We will go home under the mountain.”_

As she sang she looked at each door, hoping for some sign that Thorin was within. She found his hand grasping the metal bars of the door just around the corner. She was just able to reach up and touch her hand to his.

“Bilberry,” he twined their fingers together, “that song…”

“I found words for it. I thought maybe… seeing as words are the only thing I can craft, that I might present it as my First Gift. If that’s…”

“It’s perfect.” He promised. 

She laughed and groaned, frustrated, “My romantic gesture delivered through a window I can barely reach… Confusticate these elves!”

Thorin laughed, full-bellied and it was a beautiful sound. “ _Now_ you’re truly one of us.”

“I will get us out of here,” she vowed, “I said I would get you to Erebor, no matter what and a Baggins keeps her word.”

Thorin said softly, comfortingly, “I have no doubt, Ghivashel.” 

She smiled. “Now that I know where you are, I can tell the others you’re here. I’ll return when I can.”

Reluctantly she took her hand back and slipped the ring on. As she walked away, she heard Thorin singing the song and let it fill her with determination. It was a promise, and she intended to keep it.

The days blurred. She kept track only by the single meal a day that the kitchen provided Thorin, for nothing else was consistent. Maybe she ate, but not always; hunger was… not as important in the grey world of the ring. Sleep was minimal, some days all she managed was a few hours of motionlessness where she allowed her body rest, if not her mind. The nausea was stronger in the mornings, but it too faded in the greyness. By the end of week two, she knew that there was no way they were getting through any of the main gates leaving the palace. They were too heavily guarded at all times, and even if they made it out into the forest, the patrols were heaviest close to the palace. They’d be caught. No. There had to be another way out.

Halfway through week three, Bilberry had most of a plan. She stumbled upon their escape route completely on accident; looking for a place to rest, she’d tried the lower levels believing there would be fewer people. That’s where she’d found the trap door to the river. She saw the barrels dumped through it, heard that they made their way to Esgaroth, and decided that it was perfect. It would even take them to a city where they could resupply. She learned of the ideal time after listening to the kitchen staff in a tizzy over the plans for a feast in a few days that everyone would be attending. They could use the party as cover for their escape, making their way out when everyone was too distracted by music and drink to notice. 

Only two problems remained. How to get the company’s armor and weapons, and how to get the keys.

Her visits with the company were becoming sporadic as she occasionally lost track of time, but she’d made a point to come visit when she realized she couldn’t remember the last time she’d done so. It was later than she thought, though, only a handful of them were awake.

“Amadnam,” Kili touched their foreheads lightly through the bars, “you look like you’re wilting.”

“I’m not a plant, Kee.”

“He’s right though. You don’t look so good.” Bofur commented. 

She glared at the miner. “See if I save you from prison.”

“Can’t save anyone if you’re dead.” Fili pointed out entirely too reasonably.

“I’m not dying.” Bilberry pulled herself away from Kili and stood up. “I’m just… not sleeping either.”

Dwalin cursed. “And why not?”

Somehow she didn’t think ‘fire and death and great, terrifying eyes’ would go over well. No one needed to hear she was dreaming of dragonfire and Smaug, not this close to the mountain. Instead she said, “Not safe. Have to keep away from patrols.”

As if summoned, the sound of footsteps had her in the shadows and then invisible before anyone could argue. The others adopted relaxed positions; Dwalin, Bofur, and Fili feigned sleep while Kili pulled a stone out of his shirt to fiddle with, too far away from his cot to make it there without being noticed. 

If it was time for breakfast already, she’d really lost track of time.

It was Tauriel, not breakfast, and she stopped at Kili’s cell on her walkthrough. 

“The stone in your hand, what is it?” She asked.

Bilberry couldn’t see from her hiding spot, but it couldn’t be anything bad if the elf wasn’t worried. If Bilberry didn’t know better, she’d think the elf was just making conversation for the sake of talking to Kili. 

“It is a talisman. A powerful spell lies upon it, if any but a dwarf reads the runes on this stone,” he shook his head, mournfully, “they will be forever cursed!”

Bilberry was quite certain no such thing existed, and if it did no one would give it to Kili.

“Or not,” Kili said as Tauriel began to walk away. “Depending on whether you believe in that kind of thing; it’s just a token.” He laughed quietly at his joke. “A rune stone. My mother gave it to me so I’d remember my promise.”

“What promise?”

“That I would come back to her. She worries. She thinks I’m reckless.”

“Are you?” Tauriel smiled. 

“Nah,” he said and promptly dropped the stone. It nearly fell away off the edge of the path, but before Bilberry could move for it, the elf caught it with her boot. Tauriel saved the stone and held it up to examine it, clearly reading the inscription. 

“Sounds like quite the party they’re having up there.”

Party? She listened and could almost make out the sound of the crowd over the ring’s influence. It was their cover for the escape! She needed to get the keys.

She stepped away while Tauriel was talking, smiling to herself at Kili’s besotted look. Oh, Thorin would _love_ that.

Luck was on her side. The holder of the keys apparently planned on getting completely soused in the basement. It took a little while, but eventually everyone in the room was drunk enough not to notice the keys float away. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t going to be enough to get the company’s gear. She had no chance of carting it down to the cellar unnoticed, and if she couldn’t, neither could the dwarves.

They would have to do without.

She went for Thorin first. His cell was much less heavily guarded, designed for isolation, so she was able to get inside quickly without raising alarm, and with the keys, she could finally open his cell. She slipped the ring off and made her way to his door. 

“I don’t know about you, but I have had quite enough of elven hospitality.” She swung his door open with a smile. “What say you to getting out of here?”

Thorin swept her up into his arms and kissed her fervently. She gave in to the kiss despite the urgency of their escape, starved for his touch. 

“That’s my burglar.” He kissed her one more time, quickly, before setting her down. 

Together they made their way back to the company’s cells. She scouted ahead with the ring, careful not to let Thorin see her put it on. Bilberry had neither the time nor inclination to share the magic ring at the moment. When she’d determined it was clear, she took the ring off and waved Thorin up.

“I’ll wager the sun is on the rise. Must be nearly dawn.” Bofur stated as they made her way up the stairs.

“We’re never going to reach the mountain, are we.” Ori lamented. 

“What a defeatist attitude.” She tutted. “Have you ever heard such baseless negativity in all your life?”

“Indeed not.” Thorin shook his head, smiling.

At once, the dwarves’ moods lifted as they saw Thorin free from confinement and Bilberry with keys. She set about unlocking the cells while Thorin kept everyone quiet. They were trying to escape, after all, they couldn’t afford to draw attention to themselves. Once free, the dwarves started up the stairs, but Bilberry directed them down instead. When they reached the cellar, she was relieved to see that all the elves were still asleep, snoring rather inelegantly on the table. 

“I don’t believe this,” Kili hissed quietly, “we’re in the cellar.”

“You’re supposed to be leading us out, not further in.” Bofur complained.

“I know what I’m doing.” She snapped. She directed them to the barrels waiting to leave for Esgaroth. “Climb into the barrels. Quickly!”

“Are you mad?” Dwalin challenged. “They’ll find us.”

“Obviously there’s more to the plan than just hiding here, please, you must trust me.” Dwarves were stubborn though, and they dithered, unwilling to climb into a confined space so soon after escaping a cell. Frustrated, she turned to Thorin with a pleading look.

“Do as she says.” He ordered and the company started climbing into barrels. 

Bilberry made sure everyone was in a barrel, checking and triple checking that she hadn’t lost anyone, and then made her way to the lever. 

“What do we do now?” Bofur asked.

“Hold your breath.” She advised and then pulled the lever.

The trapdoor opened, tipping the barrels into the river below. She counted as each one went down until the last fell out of sight, carrying in it the thirteenth dwarf. The trap door shut behind them, the elves started to stir, and only then did she consider that she hadn’t… quite planned her escape.

“Where’s the master of the keys?” Tauriel shouted, coming down the stairs trailed by several guards.

Bilberry cursed herself stupid in as many languages as she could think of and ran for the edge of the trapdoor, hoping it would open with her meager weight. It did and she cursed herself again, because she didn’t have a barrel, and it was a well known fact that hobbits could not swim.

She plunged into the river with a scream, managed to surface despite the current, and then found herself hauled onto the edge of a barrel by Nori. They’d waited for her by holding onto the narrow walls. 

“Go, go, go!” She sputtered, shaking water from her eyes. 

She held on for dear life as the barrels made their way down river, nearly losing her grip over the waterfall. For a moment she thought they may have made it, but then the horn sounded and she knew they’d been found out. Up ahead there was an elven gate that was shut as they approached, trapping them. The elves drew their swords, and Bilberry was certain they were all going back to their cells, when an arrow pierced the center elf’s back, killing him.

The orcs had found them!

Now the elves were focused on the orcs swarming them rather than the dwarves, and the company had to dodge slain elves and orcs alike as they fell into the river. One orc climbed purposefully onto the barrels to come after the defenseless dwarrow, but she still had Sting, and she cut the orc down while Nori took its weapon. The others engaged with nothing more than fists and elbows, but they managed to hold the orcs at bay. They wouldn’t be able to forever though, they needed to get that gate open. 

Kili had the same thought as she did, it seemed, as he climbed out of the barrel and onto the shore. Dwalin tossed him a sword from a dead orc and he was able to carve a path to the lever until he suddenly stopped. It took her a breath to realize that an arrow was now sprouting out of his leg just above his knee. 

“Kili!” His brother shouted.

Desperate, she tried to pull herself out of the water to help, but Bofur pulled her back down. She struggled, but she was weak as a sodden kitten in the water. Blessedly, more elves, including Tauriel, arrived and the red-haired elf quickly dispatched all orcs in Kili’s vicinity. It gave him enough time to drag himself to the lever and pull it, opening the gate. Most of the dwarves went through immediately, following the swift current, but Fili, Bofur, Nori, and Dwalin held Kili’s empty barrel and waited for him to fall into it--snapping the arrow shaft--before letting go and following the others.

The orcs and elves pursued, but thankfully the elves were only focused on killing the orcs. In truth, she didn’t catch most of what happened after they made it over the waterfall, too focused on staying on the barrel and keeping her head above water as often as possible, and she was not always successful at either. Whenever she lost her grip, she’d grab ahold of another barrel as it passed and she’d haul herself out of the water and onto the edge with a gasp. She could hear the dwarves shouting and fighting, but she could do nothing to help while she was fighting the river.

Eventually calm returned and she assumed the fighting was over, though the river current still tossed them all about as they made their way downstream. When that too, at last calmed, Thorin ordered them to the shore.

Bilberry let go of her barrel as soon as she could stand and collapsed onto the shore, heaving water out of her body. Thorin knelt next to her, holding her hair back from her face gently. She spat the last of the water and bile from her mouth and sat up. 

“We must keep moving.” Thorin ordered.

“Kili is injured.” She reminded him.

“His leg needs binding.” Fili added.

Thorin helped her to her feet as he said, “There’s an orc pack on our tail, we keep moving.”

“To where?” Balin asked.

“To the mountain,” she gestured, “we’re so close.”

“A lake lies between us and that mountain.” Balin reminded her. “We have no way to cross it.”

“So then we go around.” She challenged. Were they seriously giving up right now? After everything they’d just been through?

“The orcs will run us down, sure as daylight,” Dwalin insisted, “with no weapons to defend ourselves…”

Thorin stepped between them before she could argue with Dwalin further. “Bind Kili’s leg, quickly. You have two minutes.”

Rather than argue with Dwalin, she saw to Kili. His brother and Bofur were already tearing cloth from their shirts for bandages, and had things well in hand. She smiled at him instead. “You certainly look a bit better for solid ground. How’re you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” Kili lied.

“You’ve taken an orcish arrow to your leg, you’re not fine.” She reprimanded as she tied her wet hair into a knot at the base of her skull to keep it out of her face. “Honestly, is it all dwarves who try to cover up injury or just the line of Durin?”

“That’s a trick question, that is. Don’t answer her.” Fili warned, tying their makeshift bandages around Kili’s wound

She rolled her eyes at them. “Can you walk on it?”

“I’ll manage.” Kili nodded, getting to his feet.

Bilberry got to his other side to help him up, and that’s when she saw the human pointing an arrow at Ori. Her small noise of alarm was enough to draw the dwarves’ attention to the intruder as well. Dwalin jumped in front of Ori, axe in hand, but the Man shot the haft, weakening the crudely made weapon beyond use. Kili hefted a rock to throw, but the man shot it clean out of his hand before nocking another arrow and pointing it at all of them.

“Try that again and you’re dead.”

“You aim an arrow at a young man just minding his own business and expect us not to defend him?” Bilberry challenged, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at the Man.

The bowman didn’t lower his weapon, but he did look at her. “I was no threat to him until your friends threatened me.”

“Excuse me,” Balin stepped forward, cutting off her retort, “but you’re from Laketown, if I’m not mistaken. That barge over there… that wouldn’t be available for hire, by any chance?”

The Man slowly lowered his weapon and slung it across his back. “I came here to collect a shipment of barrels, not to ferry dwarves.”

At Balin’s urging, the dwarves helped gather the barrels in question and bring them to the barge. The Man accepted their help, but he didn’t look inclined to help them in return. “What makes you think I would help you?” He asked at last.

“For coin of course.” She said. She’d yet to meet a Man who was not persuaded by coin.

“Those boots have seen better days, as has that coat. No doubt you have some hungry mouths to feed. How many bairns?” Balin added.

“A boy and two girls.” The Man replied.

“And your wife, I imagine she’s a beauty.” Balin smiled.

“Aye, she was.”

Balin sighed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“Oh, come on, enough of the niceties.” Dwalin muttered.

“What’s your hurry?” The Man asked.

“What’s it to you?” Dwalin asked in return.

“I would like to know who you are, and what you are doing in these lands.” 

“They are my entourage, of course.” Bilberry declared, stepping up to Balin. “I cannot travel alone, the road is not kind a lone hobbit, but I cannot sell my books without traveling. They act as protection and as assistance in selling my books.”

“Book seller, you say.” 

“Author, actually.” She corrected. “Selling them is a necessary, though secondary profession.”

“We need food, supplies, weapons. Can you help us?” Thorin asked.

The Man ran his hand along the damaged barrel. “I know where these barrels came from.”

“What of it?” 

“I do not know what business you had with the elves, but I don’t think it ended well.” There was certainly no arguing with that assessment. “No one enters Laketown but by leave of the Master. All his wealth comes from trade with the woodland realm. He would see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil.”

“I’ll wager there are ways to enter that town unseen.” Balin tested.

“Aye,” the Man agreed, “but for that you would need a smuggler.”

“For which we will pay. Double.”

That caught his attention. He looked them over before turning his gaze back to her and Balin. “You’ve naught but the clothes on your backs; how do you expect to pay for my services?”

“As I said, with coin.” She pulled her coin pouch from her coat pocket.

“Fifty silver, and I’ll get you into the city.”

She did not have fifty silver.

“Done.” Balin agreed before she could haggle. “Payment upon delivery.”

“Then let us be under way.” The Man said, ushering them onto his barge. 

She made sure all of the dwarves were aboard before she hopped on as well. Once they were all on, the bargeman cast off and started them toward the city. 

“I hope you have some coin,” she whispered to Balin as she joined the dwarves, “because I’m about thirty light.”

Balin smiled at her and promised they would be fine, accepting the pouch from her when she offered. 

Thorin frowned. “Bilbe--”

“ _Bilbo_ has already shown our smuggler the coin purse. He’s no doubt expecting payment to be within it.” Balin said.

The dwarves all caught on, and she was thankful once more for their culture’s easy acceptance of women traveling in disguise. She adjusted her coat to hide as much of her figure as possible and made sure her hair was securely fastened before smiling at him apologetically. “I don’t mind, really. If it gets us to where we’re going, I’m happy.”

“Very well, Master Baggins.” Thorin agreed reluctantly.

She didn’t like the nom-de-plume coming from Thorin, but it was necessary. To avoid hearing any of the company address her as such, she made her way over to their smuggler.

“Master Baggins?” He said as she approached. 

“Bilbo Baggins, at your service.” She bowed. “And your name?”

“Bard.” He nodded back.

“A pleasure.”

He shrugged, “The pleasure is mine. It is not often we get renowned authors to our little city.”

“You’ve heard of me?”

“My girls enjoy your stories very much, as a matter of fact.”

She should just stop being surprised at this point.

A thrush landed on the rudder and started twittering away at Bard. The bargeman paid the thrush respectful attention, humming along as if he were having an actual conversation. It reminded Bilberry of the old Proudfoot widow who spoke to her cats as she gardened, and the comparison made her smile. 

The trip to Laketown was cold. Bilberry shivered constantly, a cough was settling in despite her best efforts, and the rocking of the boat was making her just a touch seasick. She stayed as far from the edge as possible, but there wasn’t a great deal of space on the barge. The dwarves began to bicker, which did nothing for her growing headache, but when the fog lifted long enough to see the silhouette of the mountain, none of it mattered.

They were almost there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The song the Bilberry sings and has been humming this entire fic is the Song of Exile from the 2004 King Arthur movie. It is really what inspired this whole fic; i heard it and couldn't help but think of the dwarves, so I adapted the lyrics and wrote this. Hope you like it; I recommend listening to it in case you need the tune._


	12. Promise and Prophecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I have brought dishonor on my family, myself, and my cow. I'm sorry about the late update y'all. I completely spaced :(_

No one enjoyed being back in the barrels, and the fish piled on top of them very nearly made her empty her already empty stomach, but it got them past the guards and into the city as promised with only a slight hiccup. She could hear fairly well, despite being covered in fish as she was, and she raised her estimation of Bard when he managed to fast talk them out of being discovered. Whoever this Alfrid was, he certainly didn’t like Bard very much. They were nearly caught again in the market, which wasn’t really surprising. Thirteen dwarves and a hobbit were going to stand out no matter how low they kept their heads, but the dwarves were easily able to subdue the guards, and the common folk actually helped them hide when more arrived, which, coupled with the scare at the gate, told her all she really needed to know about the Master of the town. 

Then Bard’s son, Bain, found them as they made their way out of the market. Apparently the Master really did have his eye on Bard; his house was being watched.

Bilberry did not like the new plan. No one did, really, but her reason for not liking the plan stemmed from an inability to swim rather than the indignity of climbing through a toilet. She felt her objections to the plan were slightly more pertinent. Unfortunately, it was the only plan that would get them to Bard’s undiscovered. 

Slipping into the canal, all the breath left Bilberry at once. It was so _cold_. She hadn’t been this cold since the Fell Winter. Even Thorin’s natural body heat wasn’t enough to counter the frigid waters when he pulled her gently against his chest. They needed to get under the wooden walkways so they could follow Bard without being seen, which required completely submerging for just a few moments. Thorin gave her a short countdown and then they were under the water. Those moments suspended under the icy waters felt like ages, but they broke the surface beneath the planks in seconds. The space between the surface and the walkway was small, only just enough to breathe through her nose. There were enough wooden supports to hold onto that the company wasn’t swimming so much as pulling themselves through the water, and despite her fear, she was able to navigate on her own. When they got to Bard’s house, they had to swim again to get to their entrance point. Ori, as the best swimmer in the company, volunteered to carry Bilberry. 

Once in the house, they were given clothes and blankets to dry off and a fire to get warm, but none of it could stop her shivering. She sat as close to the fire as she could get, though, and hoped to regain feeling in her extremities. Sigrid, Bard’s eldest, made tea, but Bilberry was happy just to hold something warm. She sipped, trying to fight a case of the sniffles before it became something. 

“Are you alright?” Fili whispered, settling Kili next to the fire.

“I’m just cold.” She tried to smile to reassure them, but a horrible cough exploded out of her chest instead. “Blast!” She gasped, as she fought to catch her breath.

“More like you have a cold.” Kili surmised. “Oin!”

The healer was already toddling over and gently shoved Fili aside to take a look at her. Bilberry tried to insist she was fine, but between the sneezing and coughing, she didn’t think she got more than a word or two out.

“Have you right in a jiffy, we will.” Oin promised. He asked for some herbs from Sigrid and ground them into a paste with his hands before mixing it with her tea. He told her to drink up, all of it down, and when it was gone she nearly threw it back up. “Ah, none of that Master Baggins. Keep it down so it can do it’s job.”

She forced herself to keep it down and nodded when the feeling passed. The pain in her throat eased almost immediately and she smiled, “My thanks, Master Oin.”

“Three cups of that a day, and so long as you don’t get any worse, you should be right as rain in no time.” Oin patted her on the back and left her to the princes.

She caught Thorin’s eye across the room and gave him a nod and a smile to let him know she was alright. In an effort to keep their cover, they had to remain professional, and it was easiest to maintain at a distance. All she wanted to do was curl up against Thorin and sleep until she felt warm again, but that wasn’t an option at the moment. Instead, she scooted closer to the fire and accepted another cup of tea from Fili.

“You took our money,” Thorin addressed Bard, “where are the weapons?”

“Wait here.” Bard ordered before disappearing down the way they’d arrived. He returned with a large parcel which he set on the table. Within were weapons, though not any that Bilberry had ever seen. Several of them looked cobbled together from other things.

“In defense of your life, these will serve you better than none.” Bard said.

A true statement, and if they wanted the weapons simply to defend themselves, it would be a valid argument. But against a dragon? Makeshift weapons would get them killed. 

“We paid you for weapons,” Gloin objected, “iron-forged swords and axes!”

“It’s a joke.” Bofur agreed.

“You won’t find better outside the city armory.” Bard defended. “All iron-forged weapons are kept under lock and key.”

“Thorin, why not take what’s on offer and go?” Balin urged. “I’ve made do with less. So have you.”

Bilberry didn’t think the others noticed Bard’s attention snap to Thorin. They weren’t looking at the bargeman. But she saw it, and she wondered if their cover wasn’t blown right then and there. Would Bard recognize the name of the King Under the Mountain, absent from his lands longer than the Man had been alive? If he did, would he help them, or stop them?

“I say we leave now.” Balin stated.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Bard declared. 

Bilberry winced. That wouldn’t go over well.

“What did you say?” Dwalin growled.

“There are spies watching this house and probably every dock and wharf in the town. You must wait till nightfall.” Bard informed them.

“I, for one, am perfectly fine with waiting. At least until I can feel my feet again.” Bilberry said when it looked like the others were ready to leave, heedless of Bard’s warnings. 

“Nightfall then.” Thorin agreed at last. 

Bard left, though he did not say where to or how long he would be gone; neither of which settled well with Bilberry. She suspected he knew who now resided within his home, and she’d bet his generosity was coming to a swift end. Fear of Smaug seemed to her the only reasonable answer as to why though. Thorin had said that Dale and Esgaroth traded heavily with Erebor, that both human cities had prospered under the alliance. The return of such an alliance would only benefit Laketown, but only if they could slay the dragon. If they woke the beast, it wasn’t unreasonable to assume he would wreak havoc on the surrounding area in retaliation. Laketown would not survive a dragon attack.

“Here,” a tub of water was placed at her feet by Sigrid, “for your feet. It’ll warm them up faster than the fire.”

“Oh, thank you.” She smiled gratefully and dipped her feet into the warm water. 

“They called you Master Baggins.” Sigrid said, “Are you… I mean. Is that a common name for halflings?”

“Hobbits.” She corrected gently. “We’re not half of anything, thank you.”

“My apologies--”

“It’s alright. You didn’t know; no harm done.” Bilberry smiled. “And to answer your real question, yes, I am Bilbo Baggins. Your father mentioned you were fond of my books.”

Suddenly she was surrounded by squealing girls. Tilda and Sigrid bombarded her with questions so fast she was barely able to keep up, and the others were absolutely no help. One glance in their direction saw most of them were tickled pink with the whole affair. Thorin even cracked a smile for the first time since climbing out of his barrel after escaping the elves. 

Once she let slip that the heroine of her tales was based on her mother, the girls begged to hear more about Belladonna Took, and even Bain was pulled in by their enthusiasm. The three children gathered around Bilberry, focused intently on her as she told the story of the time her mother had to talk her way out of trouble with a couple of talking trees in the old forest near Buckland, giving the company a chance to leave undetected. 

When the dwarves started leaving a few at a time, Bilberry noticed, but Thorin motioned for her not to draw attention and to keep up her story. Reluctantly, she agreed. If they were still here when Bard returned, there was no guarantee they’d be allowed to leave, so it was best to be gone before. Bifur was the last to go, signing to her to join them by the armory once they were all gone.

Once he left, and after she wrapped up her story, she apologised to the children. “I want you three to know that I am so glad you enjoy my stories, and I would truly love to share more of them with you, but I have to join my friends.”

“Join your--” Bain whirled around and then cursed. “You distracted us while they escaped!”

“We are not prisoners, Bain.” Bilberry scolded. “Your father helped us get into the city, and for that we are grateful, but we cannot stay here.”

“Why not?” Tilda asked.

“It’s too dangerous. Your father risked enough getting us in; I would not see him punished for offering us aid, and if the spies are any indication, we’ve brought more than enough trouble to you already.” It was a reason, if not the only one. “It’s better if we leave.”

She dried her feet--which were feeling much better after their warm soak--and bid the children farewell, descending the stairs down to the water. Once she was out of sight, she slipped on the ring and made her way to the dwarves. They were outside the armory, as they said they would be, so she went back around the corner, removed the ring, and then joined them.

“Well done.” Thorin greeted her with a brief hug. “As soon as we have the weapons, we make straight for the mountain.”

Getting into the armory was easier than she expected, but then no one thinks to guard the second story window against intruders. Inside, they collected as many weapons as they could, but Kili’s injured leg gave out as he went down the stairs causing a resounding clammer of dropped steel. The guards arrived shortly after.

The guards were not gentle, and they weren’t stupid either. Her trick of just slipping away wouldn’t work like it had with the goblins. They were forced marched through the city until they came to a very large building she could only assume belonged to the Master. The guards formed a line behind them, cutting off escape as the doors were opened. The Man that came through was perhaps the most odious being she’d ever seen, and that included the goblins. He also looked like the only well-fed person she’d seen in Laketown, which meant he could only be the Master.

“What is the meaning of this?” He demanded.

“We caught them stealing weapons, sire.” One of the guards said.

“Ah, enemies of the state, eh?”

“A desperate bunch of mercenaries if ever there was, sire.” That voice was familiar; it was the man from the dock who’d threatened Bard.

“Hold your tongue.” Dwalin spat, stepping forward. “You do not know to whom you speak. This is no common criminal! This is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!”

Thorin put a hand on Dwalin’s shoulder and stepped forward as well. “We are the Dwarves of Erebor. We have come to reclaim our homeland.” The crowd had gathered at this point, and all of them began to murmur about the company. Even the Master seemed stunned. Thorin took the opportunity to speak while he had their attentions. “I remember this town in the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbor, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake. This was the center of all trade in the North! I would see those days return. I would relight the great forges of the Dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the Halls of Erebor!”

The crowd cheered, emboldened and delighted by the prospect of their city being as it once was. Great. Wealthy. A place of plenty and not a half sinking heap of wood on a lake. Restoring trade with Erebor would be monumental for the people of Laketown, and they all knew it.

“Death!” Bard shouted above the crowd, shoving his way forward past the guard. “That is what you will bring upon us! Dragonfire and ruin. If you waken that beast, it will destroy us all.”

“You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this,” Thorin opened his arms in subtle invitation, “if we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the mountain. You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!”

The people were cheering again, more tempted by the fabled wealth of the mountain than fear of the dragon.

Not all of them though. 

“Why should we take you at your word? We know nothing about you.” Alfrid sneered. “Who here can vouch for your character?”

“I can.” Bilberry stated, shoving her way out of the guard’s grip. “I’ll vouch for him.”

“And you are…?” Alfrid turned his nose up at her.

“Bilbo Baggins. Author and storyteller.” She heard more than a few people in the crowd react to her nom-de-plume. Good. “I have traveled far with these dwarves, through many dangers, and, as a writer, I can tell you that Thorin Oakenshield is the type of person we build heroes after. He is brave and he is proud and he is honorable, and if he gives his word, then he will keep it.”

The look of gratitude and adoration from Thorin was enough to make her a little wobbly in the knees.

“All of you! You must listen to me!” Bard shouted. “Have you forgotten what happened to Dale? Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm? And for what purpose? The blind ambition of a Mountain King, so driven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!”

Bard and Thorin looked ready to fight with more than words, but the Master finally decided to speak. “Now, now. We must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame. Let us not forget that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, _your_ ancestor who failed to kill the beast!”

So Bard was of the royal line of Dale. That explained why the Master disliked him; if Bard ever got it in his head to take control, he’d probably have a decent following. Though, not at that moment. Most of the town was still behind Thorin and their desire for gold.

“You have no right to enter that mountain.” Bard implored.

“I have the only right.” Thorin objected. He turned from Bard and said, “I speak to the Master of the Men of the Lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people?”

She could see the greedy mind of the Master turning the idea over in his head, the lust for riches clearly evident in his hungry gaze. She had no doubt that he would agree, especially since Bard was so opposed to the idea.

“What say you?” Thorin demanded.

“I say unto you, welcome!” The Master proclaimed. 

That was it. The crowd cheered, the guards released them, and Bard left. The company was brought inside where a feast was prepared while they discussed particulars. The Master promised aid in way of supplies and weapons and a place to stay until they left three days hence, and in return Thorin promised gold enough to rebuild and trade reestablished once the others arrived from the Blue Mountains. She tried to pay attention to it all, but she couldn’t focus. Too tired.

Once that was done, they were shown to their new housing. A guard was posted outside their front door, for their protection, apparently. One guard was not going to do much to stop the dwarves from doing whatever, and he never came in, so they let it slide. 

When the door was closed and the company was alone once more, Thorin picked Bilberry up and kissed her soundly in front of the others. Their whoops and hollers were ignored as she kissed Thorin back. 

“Thank you.” He whispered against her lips.

She smiled, but became very dizzy and stumbled. Thorin kept her from falling, but then she began coughing again. 

“Oin!”

“I’m fine,” she protested, “just tired.”

“Get her upstairs,” Oin instructed. “I’ll bring her something for that cough in a moment.”

Thorin lifted her off the ground and carried her upstairs, “This is ridiculous. I can walk Thorin.”

“We are mere days from reclaiming the mountain; we need you hale and whole, burglar. I need you... “ He picked a bedroom and set her gently on the bed, brushing a stray lock behind her ear. 

“I’m not dying. It’s a _cold_.” She huffed, then coughed.

Thorin smiled, but it was strained. “You spent three weeks trapped in Thranduil’s palace unable to rest or eat without fear of discovery, then road miles down a cold river on the outside of a barrel, only to be forced into even colder waters while we evaded the Master’s men. If all you have is a cold, I will count is as a mercy from Mahal himself.”

Bilberry couldn’t argue with his logic, but other than the coughing and the sneezing and the nausea, she felt fine. Nothing life-threatening, and nothing a few nights unbroken rest wouldn’t cure. All of which she told Oin when he handed her a cup of tea.

“You’ve a fever, Lass.” Oin shook his head. “Until it breaks, I’m not convinced it is just a cold.”

She rolled her eyes, but drank her nasty tea. “I’ll be better in the morning, you’ll see.”

“Of course,” Oin placated, “now lie back and go to sleep.”

Oin left Thorin with instructions should her condition worsen and then closed the door behind him. 

“How’s Kili?” She asked.

Thorin frowned. “Oin fears his leg is infected.”

“It was an orc arrow, I’m not surprised.” She sighed.

“Kili is young and strong; with Oin’s help, he’ll pull through just fine.”

She noticed he didn’t say how long that would take, but given the stormy expression on Thorin’s face, she didn’t expect the answer was a good one. She reached for him, “Thorin…”

He held her hand and knelt next to her bed. “You will both recover.”

“Yes, we will. Because I am not that sick, and Kili is far too stubborn to let a little thing like an infection keep him down for long.” Bilberry managed between coughing fits.

“Rest, Ghivashel.” Thorin kissed her softly, and then began to sing her song quietly to lull her to sleep.

She was not better the next day, but neither was she worse. Coughing and sneezing and nausea were unpleasant, but she managed to sleep most of the day to avoid them. Thorin or Oin would wake her long enough for her to eat or drink more of Oin’s tea and then let her sleep again. By afternoon the following day, she was much improved. And ravenous. She ate three helpings of Bombur’s stew and her renewed appetite seemed to make Oin happy. When she got through the rest of the afternoon without coughing or sneezing, she managed to convinced Thorin she was all better too.

Kili was not improving. They were leaving in the morning and it looked more and more like they may have to leave him behind, which broke her heart a little. Fili and Kili--because Fili would stay if Kili did, she knew it--should be there when they reclaimed the mountain. It was their birthright as princes of Erebor, they risked so much to get this far, only to be left behind within spitting distance of their goal? It wasn’t fair, but… another, much smaller part of her was glad they wouldn’t be near the dragon.

The supplies from the Master arrived just before sundown, along with a party invitation. The town was throwing a celebration on the eve of their departure, and dwarves loved to party almost as much as hobbits. They went, of course, and danced and drank and sang and toasted well into the night, and no one managed to embarrass themselves, so Bilberry counted it a solid win.

Morning came quickly and they made their way to the boats that would take them across the lake when she noticed Bofur was not with them. Thorin said they could not wait for him, and Balin agreed, but he wouldn’t be alone. As she suspected Thorin told Kili to stay and Oin remained behind as well to care for his patient. Fili objected, but when he could not sway Thorin, he stayed with his brother. 

They made good time across the lake, strong dwarven arms propelled the boat forward with speed. Bilberry removed her overly large helmet and let her hair down as soon as they were out of sight of the lake, happy to have it free once more. Putting on the disguise of Bilbo Baggins had been harder than she thought it would be. She’d grown accustomed to not needing to hide who she was to be valued, and it rankled a bit to have to do so in Laketown. She smiled, and enjoyed the breeze through her hair.

Across the lake, they made landfall at the foothills of the mountain, and Thorin could not take his eyes off the spire before them. The company set off at once, following their fearless leader along paths not walked in decades. Confident in step despite the long years, Thorin took them ever higher.

Further from the lake, Bilberry noticed that all traces of green, however minimal they had been to start with, disappeared. Glancing around, she saw the bones of dead trees, rocks, dust and dirt. 

“So quiet.” She noted.

“Wasn’t always like this.” Balin explained. “Once these slopes were lined with woodlands. The trees filled with birdsong.”

Curious, she knelt down and dug a little at the dirt beneath her feet. It was dry, no mistake, and packed tight. This was a trail though, not likely something that had once grown anything more substantial than grass. She stood and headed a little ways away, toward one of the desiccated trees. Again she dug around, and here the earth was dry, but not dead. Not completely. With work, and the right gardener, she believed it could hold green life again. 

“Isn’t that something.” She murmured.

“Bilberry,” Thorin helped her to her feet. “We are making good time, but we should delay as little as possible.”

“Yes, of course.”

They rejoined the others as they stood on an overlook. Ahead rose a ruined city, barren and still, at the foot of the mountain. “Is that Dale?”

If she remembered correctly, Dale was the main source of food for Erebor. Farmland could not be found inside the mountain, but the human city just outside had it in abundance. Now, looking at the land around Dale, all she could see was more dry dirt. She itched to get close to it, to inspect it. She’d bet her share of the treasure that it was like the earth up here. Just waiting to be reborn.

“Once. Now it is a ruin. The Desolation of Smaug.” Balin lamented. 

They didn’t know, she realized. They believed the land to be dead, completely beyond hope. They truly believed their main source of food to be gone. How long did they really expect to survive importing all of their food? 

Balin eyed the city pensively, “It was said the King of Dale and his line were able to talk to the thrushes. I wonder if young Bard possesses the gift.”

Bilberry recalled the moment on the barge when she’d observed Bard talk with the little bird on his rudder.

“The sun will soon reach midday. We must find the hidden door into the mountain before it sets.” Thorin ordered. “This way.”

Idly, she noted that there was no wizard waiting for them here or anywhere. She suspected Gandalf would not make it in time, but a part of her had hoped he might. Shaking her head, she followed Thorin and the others down to the base of the mountain. It took several hours to walk from the overlook to the mountain, but that was expected. They steered clear of the main gate, though she could see it in the distance, gaping, torn edges, like an open wound. Instead they skirted around to the east side of the mountain where the map said to look for the door. 

Bilberry found the stairs leading up, hidden in a carving of an old dwarven king, and the company made their way up. It was slow going, and Thorin stayed behind her to make sure she didn’t fall as they climbed. When they reached the top of the stairs, over the shoulder of the statue, there was a flat, even jut of stone out from the side of the mountain. 

They’d found it.

Now all they had to do was wait for the last light of Durin’s Day. Or… she thought all they had to do was wait. Dwalin and Nori both started fervently searching the wall for the keyhole, as if they expected to find it before the appropriate time. 

“Er, gentlemen.” Bilberry tried.

They ignored her as their search became more heated. The sun was slowly sinking, but it was not fully set, and Bilberry doubted that they’d find anything until the last light revealed the keyhole. 

“Thorin, this isn’t going to work.” She tried again.

“Have you lost faith, Mistress Baggins?” Thorin asked lowly.

She shot him a look, “No. All I’m saying is that they won’t find it until precisely the right moment. All searching is going to do is make them frustrated.”

Dwalin began kicking the wall as if to illustrate her point.

“We’re losing the light.” Thorin sounded truly worried. 

“The last light of Durin’s Day,” she quoted. “The _last_ light, Thorin. You will not find it before then.”

“And if I call off the search and we do not find the keyhole? Would you risk the entirety of this quest by having us do nothing?” Thorin challenged.

“Now who’s lost faith?” She snapped. 

Thorin turned from her and glared at the wall.

She took a breath and then said, calmly. “It’s magic Thorin; old magic, like the moon runes on the map. It can’t be rushed and it can’t be forced. It will happen only when it is meant to.”

“She’s right, Thorin.” Balin sighed. 

Thorin sighed and nodded, calling a halt to the search. All eyes were on the stone as the sun finally sank below the hills in the distance. No one breathed, no one moved, until the last of the sun’s light slipped away revealing nothing. 

“No.” Thorin whispered.

“Thorin--”

“No!” He shouted. “We waited, as you suggested, and now we have nothing.”

“You cannot give up now.” She begged.

“Why should we not?” Thorin sounded broken and completely defeated. “We missed our chance.”

He thrust the map against her chest as he passed, following the others as they slowly made their way down the mountain. Stubbornly, she folded the map and tucked it away before sitting herself down in front of the stone wall. She would wait as long as it took; it could not all be for nothing.

Mercifully, she did not have to wait long. Almost as soon as the others were out of sight, a thrush landed and began knocking against the stone with a snail, trying to crack the shell, and the clouds parted to let the light of the moon shine down on the keyhole.

“Thorin!” She shrieked. “Thorin, the door! It’s the _moonlight_.”

The dwarf raced back up the stairs and drew the key from around his neck when he saw the keyhole. Almost disbelieving, he slowly made his way to the door and inserted the key. He turned it and Bilberry nearly wept when she heard the mechanism unlock. Thorin pushed against the stone and the door opened.

“Erebor.”


	13. Into the Depths

Some of the older members of the company were openly weeping, those who had once lived within the mountain. She felt almost like she was intruding on the moment; it was not her homecoming after all, not her history lost and locked beneath the stone. Out of respect, she was the last one in.

Nori pointed to something above the door, and a few others turned to look. Carved above the door was a dwarven throne with beams of light emitting from the top, and an inscription above it.

Gloin read, “Herein lies the Seventh Kingdom of Durin’s Folk. May the Heart of the Mountain unite all Dwarves in defense of this home.”

“The throne of the king.” Balin smiled. 

“What’s that above it?” Closer inspection showed the streams of light came, not from the throne, but something just above it.

“The Arkenstone.” Balin replied. 

Where had she heard that before… Something Thranduil had said. That no dwarves would follow Thorin without it, but that couldn’t be right. There were twelves dwarves here that had followed Thorin without it. It was a stone; a stone couldn’t command loyalty. Could it be something… more? 

“What is that, exactly?”

“That, Burglar, is why you are here.” Thorin said.

Oh. Right. So she was sneaking into the hoard _for_ something rather than just to get past the dragon. Good to know. And the time had come to keep up her end of the deal. After everything they’d gone through, she’d almost completely forgotten that she was hired for a specific task.

“Yes. Well, then. I should…” She was suddenly extremely nervous, but she’d signed the contract and she didn’t want to disappoint the dwarves, so she forced her feet to move. 

“Bilberry,” Thorin stopped her as she passed, “I would not do this if there were another option.”

“It’s why I was hired.” She tried to sound confident. “I won’t let you down.”

He smiled and ran a finger down the length of her courting braid. “I know you won’t.” 

Balin followed her down a little ways, to guide her in the right direction. When he gestured her to a hallway, she hesitated. 

“So, I’m looking for a jewel?”

“A large, white jewel. Yes.”

“That’s it? I imagine there are quite a few down there.” Bilberry asked incredulously.

“There is only one Arkenstone, and you’ll know it when you see it.” Balin countered and then continued down the hall so she had to follow if she didn’t want to get lost. 

“Right.”

“In truth, lass, I do not know what you will find down there.” Balin admitted. “You needn’t go if you don’t want to. There’s no dishonor in turning back.”

“No, Balin,” she shook her head, “I promised I would do this, and I think I must try.”

To her surprise, Balin chuckled. “You never cease to amaze me. Thorin could not ask for a finer Queen.”

Of course it was hardly a secret that she and Thorin were together, but they hadn’t really discussed with the others what that meant for the future. She’d barely discussed it with Thorin. Bilberry knew that there would be responsibilities and expectations because of her marriage to the King of Erebor, but she hadn’t been really sure she’d be Queen. That a hobbit could be queen of a dwarven kingdom. She thought it far more likely that she’d be a consort of some kind. Not a true figurehead. However, Gandalf had called her Thorin’s queen, and now Balin had as well, so… she guessed it was more possible than she’d originally believed. 

She smiled at Balin and straightened her shoulders, resolved. She would do this, and then she would do whatever she could to prove herself to the dwarven people. Bilberry knew she had the support of the company, but they numbered only thirteen. There were thousands of dwarrow waiting to return home, for this quest to be successful, and she would not immediately have their respect simply because she’d been a part of the company. Not when she would also be their queen.

“Go now, with as much luck as you can muster.” Balin encouraged. She nodded and started to climb down the stairs when Balin added, “Bilberry, if there is, in fact, a live dragon down there… don’t waken it.”

Bilberry acknowledged the advice with another nod and then made her way down. Coming out of the hallway, the first thing she noticed was the enormity of the room. The high ceiling and reaching pillars of stone were magnitudes more vast than anything she’d ever seen before, and she could not see the far wall of the room. 

Then she turned and beheld the great wealth of Erebor. Gold as far as the eye could see, gleaming even in the low light of the chamber. Mountains of it buried pillars and staircases alike, including the one she stood on. She had no way to know how deep it truly went. Bilberry was not one usually attracted to mathoms and such, but this was an altogether different thing. The gold and jewels in this room numbered more than a thousand elves could spend in a thousand lifetimes.

And she had to find one jewel in all of _that_.

“Well,” she muttered to herself, “you won’t find it just standing here.”

Her hobbit feet saved her from the rough terrain of gold and gems as she stepped onto the pile, but they could do nothing to stop the occasional small shifting of treasure as she walked. The sound echoed throughout the room, causing her heart to pound, but after several minutes of this, she accepted that if it hadn’t already, the little avalanches of coin weren’t going to wake the dragon. 

She searched, but she knew there was no way she’d be able to go through all of it. She would have to get lucky and hope it was near the top. As time went by, she relaxed and fell into the search with earnest, occasionally getting careless, which was the only reason she pulled a buried chalice out of the pile without digging it out first. The resulting cascade of treasure was not small, and worse, it uncovered a large, red-scaled eyelid. 

Smaug.

A puff of hot air displaced more gold from the dragon’s snout, proving that it was not dead. Slowly, Bilberry retreated behind a nearby pillar, ready to go the opposite direction, but movement on that side stopped her. The dragon’s tail swept gold aside as it languidly shifted. 

Taking a few breaths to consider, Bilberry determined that the dragon was huge and probably in the process of waking up if the increased movement was any indication. She had to get out. Slowly, quietly, she made her way down the mountain of gold, but more falling treasure made her duck and hide for fear that the dragon would see her.

Of course… if it _couldn’t_ see her… 

She pulled the ring out of her pocket and slipped it on just as Smaug rose from his slumber.

“Well, thief…” Smaug hissed, “I smell you. I hear your breath. Where are you?”

If she wanted to, she could reach out and touch the scales of Smaug’s jaw, he was so close. Too close. If he could smell her, staying put was a death sentence. She ran, foregoing stealth in favor of speed, relying on the ring to keep her hidden. Smaug followed, swimming through the gold after her. She hid behind a large pillar, and watched as the dragon slid past.

“Come now, don’t be shy.” He coaxed. “Step into the light.” Smaug turned his giant head in her direction again and stepped closer. He took a deep breath and practically purred, “There is something about you… Something you carry. Something made of gold, but far more precious.”

The ring. 

Her head felt bombarded by a dark voice and insistent urging to remove the ring; she fought, but all at once, she felt the world snap back into focus, and she realized she’d removed the ring. Smaug’s great eye focused on her.

“There you are, Thief in the Shadows.”

Time to stall. “I did not come to steal from you, O Smaug, the Unassessably Wealthy. I merely wanted to gaze upon your magnificence. To see if you really were as great as the old tales say. I did not believe them.”

She tried to make her voice strong and steady, but there was no keeping the genuine terror from her tone. To her surprise though, Smaug did not kill her. Instead he pulled away, and moved so that he could strike a pose to enlighten her on the awesomeness she’d uncovered. 

“And do you now?!” He demanded.

“Truly the tales and songs fall utterly short of your enormity, O Smaug the Stupendous.” 

“Do you think flattery will keep you alive?”

“No, no--” She objected.

“No indeed. You seem familiar with my name, but I don’t remember smelling your kind before. Who are you and where do you come from, may I ask?”

Here was her chance. Despite his threat, Smaug did seem affected by flattery, and it was no small secret that dragons were insatiably curious. They needed to know the answer. If she could keep him interested, keep him guessing, she might just manage to make it out alive.

Then she saw it. The Arkenstone was half covered by coins, but Balin was right. She’d know it when she saw it. Of course, it was several feet away, between her and the dragon, but if she was careful, she could maybe snag it.

“I come from under the hill, and under hills and over hills my path has led. And through the air, I am she who walks unseen.”

“Impressive…” Smaug hummed and came mere inches from her. “What else do you claim to be?”

“I am the clue-finder, the web-cutter, the riddle-maker, the stinging fly. I was chosen for the lucky number.”

“Lovely titles, go on.”

She took a breath and tried, “I am the ringwinner, the luckwearer, the wordsmith. Barrel-rider.”

“Barrels?” Smaug pulled away, “Now that is interesting. And what about your little Dwarf friends? Where are they hiding?”

Bilberry gave Smaug a confused look, and sounded out the word like she’d never heard it before. “Dwarves? No. No, dwarves here. You’ve got that all wrong.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, Barrel-Rider! They sent you in here to do their dirty work while they skulk about outside.” Smaug’s attention fell from her temporarily while he glared at the walls as if he could see the dwarves outside. 

She edged herself closer to the Arkenstone while she had the chance, but his inattention did not last forever. She froze and said, “Truly, you are mistaken, O Smaug, Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities.”

“You have nice manners for a thief and a liar!” Smaug bellowed and once again turned from her. “I know the smell and taste of dwarf. No one better! It is the gold, they are drawn to it like flies to dead flesh.” In his tantrum, Smaug stepped on the pile with the Arkenstone, sending it flying down the mountain of gold. She followed after it, determined to keep it in her sights while Smaug continued to rant. “Did you think I did not know this day would come? That a pack of canting dwarves would come crawling back to the mountain?”

Smaug began knock pillars down in his pursuit, and she was sure the tremble of the mountain could be felt all the way to laketown, but she was close to the stone now, and she _would_ get it.

“The King Under the Mountain is dead; I took his throne, I ate his people like a wolf among sheep! That pretender outside, the one who sent you in here, the one who filled your head with lies as he filled your belly with spawn, _will not take it from me!_ ”

Bilberry flung herself behind the staircase and gasped back a cry of objection. How… could Smaug _smell_ that she was pregnant? She wasn’t even certain herself, though all evidence did point that direction. Her hand rested protectively over her belly, and she cursed silently. For whatever reason--insanity perhaps--the fact that Smaug knew before she’d told Thorin filled her with indignant rage. 

“He sent you in here for the Arkenstone, didn’t he?” 

“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She tried to match her steps to the dragon’s so he wouldn’t hear the shift of coin beneath her feet as she made her way to the stone. 

“Don’t bother denying it! I guessed his foul purpose some time ago.” His sudden redirection toward her sent her hiding again. “But it matters not. Oakenshield’s quest will fail. The darkness is coming. It will spread to every corner of the land.”

Wait… how did the dragon know Thorin’s honor-name? He didn’t have it until after Erebor fell, and the dragon hadn’t left the mountain in that time. Was someone communicating with Smaug? This darkness that he spoke of reminded her of what Gandalf said back in Bag End, what Beorn had alluded to at his cabin. Was the dragon in league with whatever evil was growing? Did Gandalf know this?

“You have been used, Thief in the Shadows. You were only ever a means to an end. Oakenshield has weighed the value of your life, and the life you carry, and found them worth nothing.”

“No. You’re lying.” Bilberry declared defiantly.

“What did he promise you? A share of the treasure? A crown?” The dragon scoffed. “As if it was his to give. I will not part with a single coin. Not one piece of it.”

She made a break for the stone, but a sweep of Smaug’s tail sent her and the Arkenstone flying. She landed hard on the ground and rolled until a pillar stopped her, and Smaug advanced. “My teeth are swords. My claws are spears. My wings are a hurricane.”

Bilberry stood hastily. She had to do something to get out of here, Smaug was pinning her in. As he reared up, she saw it. A single scale missing just under the left wing. A weakness. His hide may be iron, but iron does not protect that which it does not cover.

“That’s it.” She murmured. 

“What did you say?” Smaug snapped.

The Arkenstone caught both of their attentions. Smaug seemed to think her comment had been for the stone, because he said softly, “I am almost tempted to let you take it. If only to see Oakenshield suffer. Watch it destroy him. Watch it corrupt his heart, and drive him mad.”

She’d take that bet, if only to get out of the treasury, but Smaug shook his head, pulled back, and said. “But I think not. I think our little game ends here. So tell me, thief, how do you choose to die?”

Death by dragon was not on her list of ways to die.

Smaug launched at her, but she put on the ring and ran. She picked up the stone on her way and then booked it for the stairs. The fire from Smaug left her a little singed, but otherwise unharmed, as far from it as she was. Smaug didn’t catch her, and she ran up and up. As soon as she was out of sight, she took off the ring as a precaution, but kept going. She was not safe yet.

Near the top, where she’d first entered the treasury, Thorin was looking over the gold in shock. He heard her coming though and ran to her. “You’re alive!”

“Not for much longer!”

“Did you find the Arkenstone?” He asked.

Bilberry tugged on his sleeve. “The dragon’s coming.”

“The Arkenstone.” Thorin stopped her. “Did you find it?”

Was that really the most important thing right then? She told him the dragon was not only awake but coming this way, and he still persisted in asking about the stone? She looked at him, ready to tell him off for his priorities, but something dark in his eyes stopped her. It was so out of place in his eyes that they almost didn’t look like his…

“We have to get out of here.” She insisted.

His sword blocked her path.

“Thorin.” Bilberry didn’t stop her voice from cracking; fear and hurt and anger welled up in her at his outlandish behavior. What had gotten into him?

Movement to her right drew her attention from Thorin and she paled. “Thorin!”

The strangeness in his eyes cleared and he turned to look as Smaug approached. He drew Bilberry behind him, sword now raised against the dragon. The other members of the company came down the stairs as well and all brandished their weapons at the beast as he neared. 

When it became clear that Smaug intended to burn them, they all jumped to the landing behind them and raced through the doorway they found there. Dragonfire assaulted them as they made their way clear, catching Thorin’s coat on fire. He was quick to discard it and lead them on.

The guardhouse was a crypt. The dead piled together where they’d fallen from thirst or hunger, she couldn’t tell, and the door they’d hoped to find was sealed under rubble. Balin suggested the mines, but it wasn’t an escape. It was just a place the dragon might not find them while they waited to die. Starvation and thirst were also not on Bilberry’s list of ways to die.

They were not on Thorin’s either, it seemed. He ordered them to split up and make for the forges. They would lead the dragon into a trap and hope it was enough to kill him.

What followed was the worst, most stressful game of cat and mouse that Bilberry had ever been a part of. The city was a maze of narrow staircases and massive hallways, and they ran along both dodging and attracting the dragon as needed until they made it to the forges. They were almost caught just as they made it, but Thorin distracted Smaug allowing her and Balin to make it in. She protested, but Balin dragged her in as Thorin vaulted off the edge of a shaft to escape dragonfire. Almost everyone was already there, but Bilberry fretted uselessly until Nori ran inside, Thorin hot on his heels.

“The plan’s not gonna work. These furnaces are stone cold.” Dwalin objected.

“He’s right,” Balin agreed. “We’ve no fire hot enough to set them ablaze.”

Thorin smirked as Smaug roared in the distance, “Have we not?”

“I did not look to see you so easily outwitted.” Thorin yelled at the dragon through the large gate. “You have grown slow and fat in your dotage, _slug_.”

“This is your plan?” She hissed quietly.

He smirked again. “Take cover. Go!”

They all hid flat against a bar of the gate as Smaug breathed fire down upon them. The gouts of flame roared past, stealing the air from her chest, the heat made her skin feel unbearably tight, and the sound drowned out all else until it finally was over. She panted, a little surprised to still be alive, and watched as the forge in front of them burst to life with dragonfire. They were all connected it seemed, as forge after forge lit up as well. 

Bombur operated the massive bellows at Thorin’s order as the dragon began to pound at the gate, bending the bars. 

“Bilberry!” Thorin called. She ran to him and he kissed her forehead briefly before directing her to the lever on the far side of the room. She was to pull it on his signal.

She took off as fast as she could go, and she climbed the stairs up to the lever as Smaug broke through the gate. Bilberry watched and waited for the signal from Thorin as Smaug slunk between the forges, looking for dwarves. All he saw was Bilberry, however, so he made his way to her. The dragon stopped suddenly only feet from her perch and turned to glare at Thorin who had been waiting at the base of the stairs.

“Now!” Thorin commanded. 

Bilberry leapt and pulled the enormous lever, unleashing torrents of water down upon the dragon, snuffing out his flame and knocking him to the side. The dragon flailed away and the water slowed to a steady stream as it powered the machines.

Smaug recovered and made his way back over to Thorin, completely dismissing the flash-fire bombs that Balin, Ori, and Dori were throwing at his face. He didn’t stop until Gloin cut the rope carrying cartloads of gold ore, dropping it onto the dragon’s back. The rope wrapped around the dragon, tying him up a bit, but also making his flailing more destructive, as carts slammed into things. 

Thorin was able to pull a chain, releasing the melted gold from the forges into a series of canals. Bilberry watched as Thorin took a wheelbarrow and used it as a toboggan to ferry himself along the river of molten gold. He ordered everyone to the Gallery of the Kings.

One lucky pass from Smaug destabilized the stone she stood on, and she screamed as it collapsed, sending her down to the floor as Smaug approached, headed for Thorin. 

“Keep going Bilberry. Run!” He called as he disappeared into the tunnel.

Smaug chased her as she fled, but the ropes slowed him down enough for her to get through the archway nearby. It was in the same direction that Thorin was headed, so she hoped that was where she needed to go. No one was close enough to tell her otherwise. The room she entered certainly looked very Gallery of the Kings-ish with all the tapestries hanging impressively from the upper levels. 

Desired destination or not, it was where Smaug caught up to her. He burst through the stone above the archway, sending the tapestries there to the floor. One landed on her, providing her with temporary cover. 

Smaug roared, “You think you can deceive me, Barrel-rider?”

And yes, that wasn’t the most impressive title she’d come up with, but _really._

“You have come from Laketown. There is some sordid scheme hatched between these filthy dwarves and those miserable, tub-trading Lakemen. Those sniveling cowards with their longbows. Perhaps it is time I paid them a visit.”

“No. No!” She cried and jumped up from her hiding spot. “This isn’t their fault. Wait! You cannot go to Laketown!”

Smaug stopped and turned to smile at her. “You care about them, do you? Good. Then you can watch them die!”

“No!”

Smaug ignored her plea and headed for the exit, but stopped, again, when Thorin taunted him. Bilberry watched as Thorin faced off with the dragon, silently praying that all went according to plan. When the statue mold broke, revealing the gold dwarven king within, it left Smaug mesmerized until the not yet solid gold collapsed burying the dragon in a tomb of gold. For one shining moment, she thought they’d done it. Then Smaug erupted forth from the gold, screeching about revenge, and fled the mountain.

“NO!” She ran after the beast, but he was far faster in the air than she could ever hope to be on foot. As he headed for Laketown, her heart sank with regret. “What have we done?”

“Bilberry!” The others joined her outside and she was pulled to her feet by Thorin and Dwalin. 

“Are you hurt, Lass?”

“What? No. Bumps and bruises, nothing more.” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the dragon. “We have to do something.”

“There’s nothing we can do.” Balin told her gently. “The dragon can’t be killed.”

“No, it can. I saw a weakness here,” she poked Thorin lightly on his left side, by his arm, “there’s a scale missing.”

“Aye, fine but there’s nought we can do about it from here.” Dwalin sighed. 

Then a thrush landed in front of her, tiny head cocked curiously. 

“The thrush. Bard speaks to the thrushes, I’ve seen him do it. Can you take a message to Bard?”

The thrush hopped closer, fluttering its wings impatiently. 

“Tell him there’s a scale missing on the dragon’s left side near the wing. It’s the only way to kill it.”

The bird chirped and then flew away.

“I hope he gets the message.” Ori cringed as the first blast of flame ripped through the city.

“You gave them a chance.” Balin patted her on the shoulder. 

“We should return to the mountain.” Thorin suggested.

“No.” Bilberry objected. “We did this, I can’t just… turn away.”

“You don’t need to see this.” Dwalin urged quietly. 

Bilberry shook her head. “I have to see if Bard got the message.”

“Very well, but not here.” Dwalin caved.

They made their way to the city of Dale and watched as the dragon continued to ravage the town. Soon the whole of Laketown was aflame, and still the dragon circled. Smaug continued to breathe fire down upon the city, until suddenly he stopped. The beast climbed into the air, shrieking, and then went completely still. Dead, it fell from the sky and crashed into waters below.

“They did it.” She smiled. “It’s dead!”

“Look!” Gloin pointed. “The ravens are returning to Erebor.”

“Word will spread quickly.” Balin surmised. 

“Then we should return to the mountain and make ready.” Thorin ordered, already making his way toward Erebor. 

As much as she wanted to wait, to see if she could catch a glimpse of their missing companions, it would be at least morning before they arrived. There was no reason to stay in the ruins of Dale when they had a mountain to reclaim.


	14. Dragon Sickness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Merry Christmas everyone!_

The dwarves set out immediately to find the Arkenstone. Thorin ordered a thorough search of the treasury until it was found, and he was relentless. She tried to get him to eat and sleep, but the wrongness had returned to his eyes, and there were fewer and fewer moments of clarity. 

The Arkenstone weighed heavy against her chest, hidden in her pocket. She had intended to give it to him, had promised to find and return the Arkenstone to the King, but Smaug’s taunting would not leave the back of her mind. Would it drive him mad? Had it done so already?

Something was very wrong… Thorin showed no remorse for Laketown, no concern for his nephews. If that wasn’t madness, then what? 

How could she tell him she was pregnant when the safety of his own kin was already so far from his mind? 

Bilberry, however, was not far from his thoughts. Thorin kept her by his side as often as possible, which spared her the task of pretending to look for the stone, but meant she had to watch as he sank further and further into darkness. 

Still, she tried. If she could snap him out of it, then maybe she could reason with him. They’d no need for the Arkenstone after all. The dragon was dead, there was no reason to call the seven dwarven kingdoms to heel. 

“Thorin, love, please. You must eat.” She offered him some rations on a golden plate in hopes he would at least look at the food. 

“We will have a feast when the Arkenstone is recovered.” Thorin said.

“Until then, you still need to eat.” Bilberry pleaded.

He ignored her.

She huffed, annoyed, and then stepped in front of him. She held up a slice of bread with cheese and took a bite in front of him. She mmm’d in delight and said, “Are you sure you won’t share a meal with me, Love?”

The darkness receded, though not completely, and Thorin smiled as he wound his arm around her waist. “As my Queen demands.”

She found if she could get him to look at her rather than the gold, she could almost drive back the darkness in his eyes. Not always, and never completely, but often enough that she had hope he could beat it eventually.

When Fili, Kili, Bofur, and Oin joined them in the mountain, she tried to warn them that something was off, that Thorin wasn’t acting like himself, but she wasn’t sure they really understood until they saw him. He greeted them in the treasury, in his great, gilded robe and welcomed them to Erebor, as if the gold were the only thing in the city that mattered. They were put to work looking for the stone right away.

Thorin called Balin, Dwalin, and Bilberry out of the treasury for a discussion in the throne room, demanding to know why the Arkenstone had not yet been found. He raged at both Balin and Dwalin, but didn’t seem to even notice she was there. Eventually he dismissed the others, but pulled her to his side as he sat upon the throne. 

He had her perched on the armrest and said, “Fear not; they will find it.”

“I’ve no doubt.” She tried to smile, shifting uncomfortably.

Thorin frowned. “Something troubles you.”

“Just… this armrest is not altogether comfortable.” She told him.

He chuckled. “We will have a throne commissioned for you to sit at my side, so all may see the beauty I have chosen for my Queen.”

She forced herself to smile, and reminded herself that Thorin valued her ability to lead, that he hadn’t chosen her simply for her appearance. He pulled her toward him for a kiss and then let her leave.

Bilberry waited until she was out of sight before running after Balin. She found him crying in a small clerical room not too far from the throne room. He heard her approach, of course, and sighed.

“Dragon-sickness.” He told her plainly. “I’ve seen it before. That look. That terrible need. It is a fierce and jealous love, Bilberry. It sent his grandfather mad.”

If Balin recognized that Thorin was not in his right mind, then maybe he could answer a question that had been eating away at her. “Balin, if Thorin had the Arkenstone, or if it was found, would it help?”

“That stone crowns all. It is the summit of this great wealth, bestowing power upon he who bears it. Would it stay his madness?” He shook his head. “No, lass. I fear it would make him worse. Perhaps it’s best it remains lost.” Balin gave her a significant look, and she knew he knew she had the stone.

Bilberry nodded, resolve firming not to give Thorin the stone, but that left her with the question of what to do with it. She gave Balin a hug and left. She needed to think.

She found a spot not too far from the treasury and sat against a pillar. She wanted to keep an ear out for her dwarves, just in case, but she needed quiet, needed not to hear the clinking of coins for a time. Bilberry considered her options. 

She could let Thorin find the stone and hope that Balin and Smaug were both wrong, that it would _help_ him rather than plunge him further into madness. Unfortunately, that seemed unlikely, and she didn’t want to see what worse looked like. 

Option two, she could ensure that Thorin never found the Arkenstone. There wasn’t an easy way to do that, however, and she didn’t know if Thorin would ever stop looking for it, or what the endless search would do to him and the company. Bilberry had no idea if the stone could be destroyed, or if doing so would break its hold over Thorin, but other than destroying it, the only other way to keep it from him was to smuggle it out. Which meant leaving. Possibly forever, if she couldn’t find a safe place to keep it.

Could she leave? These dwarves were like family, and she _loved_ Thorin. Under the madness, he was still her Thorin. Could she give up on ever seeing him again? But… there was a chance she wouldn’t ever see him again, and no matter how much it hurt to admit it, she had to be honest with herself.

She reached in her coat for the Arkenstone, but stopped when her hand brushed against something else, and she pulled it out instead.

The acorn she’d found at Beorn’s.

It had only been, what… five, six weeks? It seemed like a lifetime ago when she’d last considered returning to the Shire. Before she and Thorin had… 

She couldn’t just _leave._ It would be unconscionably wrong of her to remove the chance of Thorin meeting his child. What kind of monster would she be to make that choice for him, to deny him that future. She would never forgive herself. She had to hold on to the hope that Thorin would be alright, that the madness would not last forever. 

That’s all a parent really had, after all. Hope.

“What is that? In your hand.” Thorin had found her.

“It’s nothing.” She stood as he neared.

“Show me.” He demanded. 

Smiling, she held it out, and watched as the anger left his face, replaced by confusion. “I picked it up in Beorn’s garden while you were unconscious.”

“You’ve carried it all this way?” The darkness diminished, and his expression softened. 

“I was going to plant it in my garden at Bag End.” 

Thorin frowned and stepped back. “You plan to return to the Shire.”

“No.” She moved to close the gap Thorin had made. “I said I was going to. I have no plans to return to the Shire, Thorin, I swear. I would never do that to you.”

“Then why keep it?”

“It’s a memento. One day it will grow and I can look at it and remember everything that happened. The good, the bad… It doesn’t have to be in Bag End to do that. I could plant it here, just outside the mountain, and it can remind me of all that, and how lucky I am to have found myself with you.”

Thorin smiled and for the first time in days, she saw almost no trace of the darkness in his eyes. This was it, this was her chance to tell him while he had a mostly clear head. With luck, it would be enough to bring him out of it completely.

“Thorin, I have to tell you something.” 

“What is it, Ghivashel?” He drew her closer, concern dancing across his face at her seriousness.

She took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.” 

The darkness fled all at once as shock took over. “You’re--”

“Thorin.” Dwalin came around the corner. “Survivors from Laketown, they’re streaming into Dale. There’s hundreds of them.”

A different look claimed Thorin; something dark, but not the same darkness. “I will keep you safe.” He vowed, and brought her hands to his mouth to kiss her knuckles before telling Dwalin, “Call everyone to the gate!”

Thorin left, shouting orders to the dwarves in the treasury, and she rounded on Dwalin, smacking him on the shoulder. “You have horrible timing!”

He inspected her hand to make sure she hadn’t broken it. “I have no control over a hoard of Men, Lass, and they are a potential threat we cannot ignore.”

“They’re refugees.” She insisted. “Their home was just destroyed by a dragon, they’re just looking for shelter and the gold we already promised them.”

“Aye, but say they don’t like what we give them? That Master was a greedy bastard, he could convince the Men to take the mountain, and we’d be overrun.” Dwalin argued as they walked to the gate. “It’s better to take precautions.”

Thorin’s idea of precautions was to build a wall where the front gate once stood. “I want this fortress made safe by sunup. This mountain was hard-won; I will not see it taken again.”

“The people of Laketown have nothing, they come to us in need,” Kili objected. “They have lost everything.”

“I know well enough their hardship. It will make them desperate.” Thorin shook his head and looked at Bilberry. “I will not risk that which is most important to me on the acts of desperate Men.”

“If they parlay,” she asked, voice carrying over the silent dwarves, “will you treat?”

Thorin turned his gaze to the city beyond. “If a Man of honor, one I could trust, finds himself at our doorstep, I might consider it. For now, keep building.”

It was more than she had expected, so she let it go. Thorin would not let her help build the wall, but he did not stop her from bringing food and water to the company. He even ate when she offered him food.

The wall was done by morning, and she was grudgingly impressed with the work. There were stairs leading up to the battlement and everything. When Thorin took Fili, Kili and Dwalin up in the morning, she followed. He tried to send her back, but she objected. She was perfectly capable of walking up stairs, thank you.

Rather than the people of Laketown milling about, the walls of Dale were lined with heavily armored elves. She swore viciously, earning surprised looks from Fili and Kili, and one of appreciation from Thorin. 

“They do not march.” Kili pointed out. “They’re just… standing there.”

“Look.” Bilberry said. “A lone rider. I think it’s Bard.”

It was Bard. He stopped a respectful distance from the gate. “Hail Thorin, son of Thrain. We are glad to find you alive beyond hope.”

“Why do you come to the gates of the King Under the Mountain armed for war?” Thorin challenged.

“Why does the King Under the Mountain fence himself in, like a robber in his hold?” Bard threw back.

“Perhaps it is because I am expecting to be robbed.”

“My lord,” Bard adopted a more respectful tone, “we have not come to rob you, but to seek fair settlement. Will you not speak with me?”

Thorin nodded and made his way down the stairs. “Balin, send word to Dain requesting troops. We will need help holding the mountain if it comes to war.”

“Thorin, you said you would treat.” Bilberry cried.

“He brings an army of elves to talk? I think not.”

“Bard is honorable, and he believes you to be honorable as well. He would not send for the elves; they likely came on Thranduil’s orders alone.” She reasoned. “Please, you said you would speak with him.”

Thorin grunted his displeasure, but nodded and met Bard at the hole in the wall designed for the purpose of meeting. “I’m listening.” He said.

“On behalf of the people in Laketown, I ask that you honor your pledge. A share of the treasure so that they might rebuild their lives.”

“I will not treat with any man while an armed host lies before my door.”

Bilberry covered her face with her hands and groaned quietly.

“That armed host will attack this mountain if we do not come to terms.”

“ _Thorin._ ” She hissed.

He sighed heavily. “Your threats do not sway me. Only the wishes of one I hold dear.”

“You will treat?”

“Yes, on neutral ground. I’ll not send my people into the hands of those that wish us harm.”

“Where would you suggest?” Bard inquired. 

“Ravenhill.” Thorin replied. “It is not within the mountain or the city of Dale.”

“Fine. We will meet tomorrow, a ten.” Bard agreed. “Thank you.”

Stiffly, Thorin nodded and left the wall, ending the conversation.

“You will be sending me, of course.” Bilberry stated.

“Absolutely not.”

“Thorin, I am your best diplomat and a hobbit. No one has issues with hobbits,” she reasoned. “A diplomatic meeting between all three parties is going to be much easier if no one is predisposed toward animosity.”

The king shook his head. “You have far too much faith in their good will.” 

“We must _try_.” Bilberry insisted. “Erebor will not survive without the Men of Dale to provide agricultural support. Support they cannot give if they die before the harvest.”

“That’s all very well, but we don’t owe that tree-shagger anything.” Gloin protested.

“I know what Thranduil wants, and I believe I can make him back down without risking war.”

“Your safety--”

“I am in greater danger if there is war.” Bilberry held Thorin’s hands, pleading for his cooperation. “And I won’t go alone. If I take Fili with me, it’ll look better anyway.”

“Aye, as your heir, he’s a respectful stand in for yourself.” Balin agreed. “And she is the best diplomat among us.”

“Those elves won’t know what hit them.” Fili grinned.

“Two conditions,” Thorin finally relented. “You will take Dwalin as well, and you’ll not go unarmored.”

“I’ll keep them safe, Thorin.” Dwalin promised, and somehow she didn’t think he meant Fili.

“Fine, and if you can find armor that fits me and doesn’t weigh so much I cannot move, then I agree to the other as well.” She doubted such armor existed. 

Thorin smiled. “I have just the thing.”

Bilberry followed Thorin as he led her toward the armory. Dwalin and the others followed at a polite distance. The armory was vast and filled with weapon and armor stands nearly hidden behind cobwebs and dust, all of it far too large and heavy to ever accommodate her needs. Then Thorin pulled a fine set of chain from a stand and held it before her. 

“This vest is made of silver steel. Mithril, it was called by my forebears. No blade can pierce it.” Thorin said. “Put it on.”

It was beautiful, and looked very fine indeed. She removed her coat and waistcoat and let Thorin help her into the shirt. When it was on, she was amazed by how _light_ it was. If she could not hear it clink softly as she moved, she would swear she wore no armor at all. 

Bilberry looked down at herself and sighed, “I look absurd.”

“You look protected.” Thorin countered. “There is no finer armor in all of Middle-Earth.”

Knowing a losing battle when she saw one, she thanked him. She put her waistcoat on, followed by her coat, then she belted Sting around her waist and decided that she looked at little less ridiculous. Bilberry spread her arms to show her intended she was as kitted out as a hobbit could get. 

Fili and Dwalin both found armor for themselves and weapons to replace the Man-made ones they’d been given in Laketown, which gave her a thought. Thranduil still had all of their weapons and armor from their time in Mirkwood, including Thorin’s coat and Orcrist. She intended to have their property returned.

The next couple of hours were spent with Thorin, Balin, Fili, and Dwalin to discuss the upcoming negotiations and what was expected of each of them. Bilberry would be charged with the bulk of the talking, with Fili offering assistance as needed. He was there as a sign of respect and to show that the dwarves were serious about wanting to meet, but Balin encouraged the young prince to also see it as a learning experience for when he would be called on to attend courtly meetings in the future. Dwalin was there purely as a guard, and the gruff dwarf was perfectly fine with that.

There weren’t many rules, certainly none that took her by surprise. A good portion of the meeting was spent detailing what she was and was not allowed to give to the attending parties, and what she should be looking to gain from them as well. Bilberry had an idea or two already regarding that, and was pleased that the others mostly agreed with her. 

Thorin adjourned the meeting when a settlement had been agreed upon, but stopped Bilberry before she could follow after the others when his hand caught hers. He waited until he was sure the others could no longer listen before turning soulful eyes upon her.

“Are you truly with child?” He asked, hope causing his voice to waiver.

She nodded. “Hobbits and dwarrow, apparently, can have children.”

Thorin pressed his forehead to hers lightly, “By Mahal, Bilberry Baggins, I do not deserve you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She carded her fingers through his mane affectionately.

“I have… not been well of late.” He confessed. 

“Look at me,” she ordered. He met her gaze, and though she could see regret and shame in his eyes, she saw no darkness. The shadows of his madness were gone as if they had never been. “You are yourself again; that is all that matters.”

“Perhaps it is best the Arkenstone was never recovered.” Thorin decided. “I do not know if the madness is gone for good, and I do not wish to test it.”

Neither did Bilberry. She would find out more about the stone, and if it was a threat, she would find a way to remove the Arkenstone from their lives for good, but not anytime soon.

“You don’t need it.” She told him firmly. “You never needed it.”

“It is the King’s Jewel…” Thorin sighed.

“The Arkenstone does not make you a king, just as this crown does not make you a king.” She reached up and removed the golden crown from his head. “They are symbols; they can be lost or broken, but you are still a king. It is people’s loyalty and belief that make you a king, Thorin Oakenshield, which is something far more valuable.”

Thorin brushed his thumb along the courting braid in her hair as he stroked her cheek. “I am a better dwarf for having you at my side.”

She kissed him for his sweet words and again because she could. Thorin pulled her against him and deepened the kiss, not caring when the crown fell from her hand as she threw her arms around his neck. He removed the massive coat from his shoulders and spread it out on the ground. Once it was off, she hoisted herself up and wrapped her legs around his waist to get even closer. Thorin settled them both down gently onto the furs. 

Clothes and armor were removed piece by piece as they touched and kissed, starved for the taste of the other. He’d been so cold of late, like the gold that had consumed his mind, but Thorin was like a furnace now, pressed against her as they moved together, and she reveled in the return of that heat. When they were both spent and he laid down next to her, she rolled to follow that wonderful warmth, and draped her arm across his broad chest and nuzzled contentedly into his shoulder.

Bilberry could feel the vibration of his chest as Thorin chuckled. He rested his hand on her arm and curved the other one around her shoulders to keep her close. They stayed that way for several minutes is satisfied silence, but there was something that Bilberry wanted to ask.

“Thorin, how quickly can we be married?” 

“A royal wedding will take time to plan, months at least, possibly a year. Why do you ask, Amrâlimê?” Thorin moved his hand from her arm to her cheek.

“In the Shire, a child out of wedlock is… well. Not done, really. If there is a child, the couple are married quickly, and become the next big scandal.” She admitted. 

“A child is a gift from Mahal. It does not matter that we were blessed before our vows.” Thorin promised. “We are intended; that is enough to keep the stuffiest of conservatives happy.”

She relaxed. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Thorin kissed her hair and they fell back into silence until chatter from the hallway pulled them from their leisure. There was still much of the day left, they could not spend it naked on the floor. Bilberry cleaned herself up as best as she was able and then redressed. Thorin did the same, though he left the coat and the crown on the table as they made their way out of the room. 

Silence fell over the company when they saw Thorin without his gilded trappings, and their king looked to each of them, deliberately making eye contact with each dwarf. “The dragon-sickness is gone,” he vowed, “and I beg forgiveness for my actions under its influence. I will do all I can to be worthy of your loyalty once more.”

The company gave one resounding shout of triumph in reply and the tension that had been over everyone evaporated. Thorin made contact with each dwarf, a forehead touch, a hand on the shoulder, clasped arms, like he had all those months ago outside of Bree after Balin’s tale of Moria. The company welcomed their king happily and Bilberry was relieved that no permanent harm had been done.


	15. Terms and Conditions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Late again. Sorry guys. Sometimes I forget what day of the week it is..._

The search for the Arkenstone was halted, and restoration for the more important areas of the mountain began until it was time for dinner. Bombur and Bilberry prepared a meal with what they could, but it wasn’t going to be anything special until they could get more supplies. Balin told them that part of his message to Dain included a request for provisions, so they would have something as soon as the Iron Hills dwarves arrived. Until then, they would make do.

Bilberry woke the next morning and had a small breakfast, too nauseous for much else, and yearned for the day she would wake without morning sickness. Thorin handed her a glass of water and kissed her forehead, wisely saying nothing about her meager meal. 

When it was time to leave, she met Dwalin and Fili, both armed and armored, outside the treasury. They would take the secret door out of the mountain and then make their way up to Ravenhill for the negotiations, both Thorin and Dwalin unwilling to dismantle the barricade at the front gate just yet. 

As they walked, Bilberry tried to calm her nerves. She had handled negotiations before, this wouldn't be her first time, or even her hundredth, but it was the first time she was handling matters of _nations_. Nothing in the Shire quite prepared her for this.

Bilberry sighed, “Maybe Balin should have been the one to do this…”

“Uncle trusts you, Amadnam. He wouldn’t have let you come if he didn’t believe you were the best for the task.” Fili told her.

“That’s the truth.” Dwalin grumbled. 

The tent that had been set up for the negotiations was elaborate, definitely elven, and had a two guards posted outside. One elf, one man. 

“Hail, envoy from Erebor.” The elven guard called as the approached. 

Bilberry nodded politely and wondered if Dwalin would be forced to remain outside as well. 

The tent flap opened to reveal Bard. “I suspected he would send you. Welcome, please join us.”

They stepped inside and the first thing Bilberry noticed was the large pole that held the peak of the tent, as it was wreathed in wrought-iron vines which she found lovely, though entirely unnecessary. So too were the tapestries that hung next to every entrance of the tent. The tables and chairs were also of elvish design. They may be on neutral ground but they were surrounded by elvish motif, and she suspected it was done purposefully to put the dwarves on edge. 

Bilberry had forgotten how much she disliked Thranduil, but seeing him again, she was reminded of everything she’d witnessed while in his kingdom. The disdain he had for the dwarves was evident then as it was now. If he hoped to intimidate her with interior decorating, he failed. She was not impressed.

Thranduil lounged calmly in a chair on the far side of the tent, and while there was a chair for Bard, he chose not make use of it. The small table beside Thranduil held nothing but a wineglass, though she saw that the decanter was on the center table, available for any to use as they desired. Ink, quills, and parchment were also on the table. 

Thranduil rose gracefully as they entered. “The guards were left outside,” he noted placidly. “Perhaps for the sake of diplomacy, you would do the same?”

“Dwalin,” she whispered, silently urging him not to argue. 

Dwalin growled lowly, but bowed respectfully to her and Fili before slipping out. It was just a gesture of goodwill after all. The guard were well within actionable distance. 

“King Thranduil of the elven kingdom of the Greenwood, and Lord Bard of Dale, thank you for agreeing to treat.” Bilberry began. “May I present, His Highness, Fili son of Vili, heir to the throne of Erebor, here as a representative of the King Under the Mountain, Thorin son of Thrain.”

The three exchanged the smallest of bows before Thranduil turned his gaze to her once more. “Are you his scribe?”

Bilberry smiled. He would learn. 

“It is my pleasure to present my royal uncle’s finest ambassador: Mistress Bilberry Baggins, princess of the Shire, and soon-to-be Queen Under the Mountain.” Fili grinned as Bard and Thranduil both looked surprised. 

Bilberry was going to have to have another discussion with the boys. Calling her a princess wasn’t accurate; the Shire didn’t have royalty. Though, by the very loosest of definitions, the title might be comparable if trying to explain it in terms a Man or Dwarf would understand. Still. Not a princess.

“Mistress Baggins?” Bard raised and eyebrow.

“Bilbo Baggins is my nom-de-plume I use when writing and as I travel. I have found it to be a necessary, if regrettable deception.”

“You are the halfling who stole the keys from under the nose of my guards.” Thranduil eyed her appraisingly. “And you are intended to their king. Interesting.”

“Yes.” Bilberry admitted. “I regret that previous encounters between the elves of the Greenwood and the company of Thorin Oakenshield were less than favorable for either party, however, I believe the matter at hand requires our attention.”

“Agreed.” Bard said. “Let us discuss the reparations for the people of Laketown.”

“My deepest apologies for the losses you and your people suffered, Lord Bard.” Bilberry offered sincerely. She could still see the dragon ravaging the city when she closed her eyes.

“Your condolences will do nothing for them,” Thranduil said, “if that is all the King Under the Mountain has to offer…”

“Of course not.” Fili snapped. 

Bilberry gave Fili an emotionless look of warning and the prince bowed his head, contrite. 

“My lords, forgive me. Where I am from it is polite to offer sympathy before discussing restitution and cost. If such is not the case here, I will, of course, adjust.”

“No. Your condolences are welcome, Mistress Baggins.” Bard accepted graciously.

“We remember and recognize the debt owed to the Men of the Lake for their assistance and for lives lost. However, His Majesty, Thorin Oakenshield, worries about the heavily armed force now standing poised to attack from Dale without cause or provocation.”

“The elves arrived carrying much needed food and supplies for my people. They are welcome in Dale.” Bard explained. 

“How generous of them.” Fili commented. 

“We heard news of the dragon’s demise and came to reclaim that which is ours. Helping the men of Dale was a fortuitous addition.”

“Bringing an armed host to the door of a neighboring kingdom seems an extreme method. Some would see it as a hostile act.” Bilberry tried to give the elf a chance to defend his actions.

“So it would have been had you not convinced Thorin to treat.”

Bilberry began to suspect Thranduil didn’t actually know the meaning of diplomacy. She took a calming breath and smiled serenely. “I hope it is the goal of all gathered to avoid war. Toward that effort, let us discuss the reason for which we are here. Lord Bard, had you a figure in mind for your needs?”

“I ask only for enough to rebuild our lives.” Bard said. “I’ve no desire to take more than what was promised.” 

He handed her a few sheaves of parchment with sums and estimates for her to review. Fili looked over them as well, and she was grateful. She’d no head for calculating what was needed to rebuild a city’s infrastructure. When Fili pointed to something, she asked Bard if he would allow them to make notes. He agreed and Bilberry handed a quill to Fili. He adjusted numbers here and there, reducing some, increasing others. She accepted the quill when he was satisfied and added her own changes where she saw need. She totaled the new amount, showed it to Fili who nodded, and then handed the new total to Bard.

“This is more than the first number.” Bard said.

“There is a catch, I’m sure.” Thranduil muttered. “Or a failure in arithmetic.”

“Your estimates for labor to rebuild the walls and such relied on human laborers. When our people from the Blue Mountains arrive, there will be stonemasons available to assist. Dwarven labor will cost more, but is worth it. The increased amount is to cover the higher cost.” Fili said cheerfully, ignoring the elf.

“I also noticed the estimates for farmland restoration was low as you only planned for a small portion to rehabilitate.” Bilberry added. “I’ve looked at the soil in the area and I’m convinced with a little help, the farmland could flourish. We’d like to encourage this for future trade purposes and are more than happy to invest accordingly.”

Bard eyed them suspiciously. “I’m not sure you know how haggling works.”

“The people of Laketown are owed a debt, one that I promised would be honored.” Bilberry defended. 

“I see you are far more accommodating than, perhaps, your king intended.” Thranduil glanced at the new figure before looking Bilberry over carefully. “Does he know how generously you spend his gold?”

“My lord trusts my judgement. I would not be here otherwise.” She found herself repeating what Fili and Dwalin had told her on their way up and was pleased to realize she was confident in the validity of the statement. Bilberry then turned to Bard. “Do you find the negotiated amount acceptable?”

Bard nodded. “This will help us a great deal. Thank you.”

“It is our hope that Erebor and Dale may once again be friends and partners.” She bowed.

“Of course, My Lady.” Bard bowed in return.

“Another matter still exists.” The elf king drained his glass and poured another. “The return of my property. I do hope you continue to show more reason than Oakenshield.”

She could hear Dwalin curse outside the tent and forced herself to keep her face completely neutral, and she could see Fili struggling to do the same.

“My Lord Thranduil, I understand that there are gems within the mountain that you desire.” She wondered if Thranduil noticed she used his own phrasing; if he did, he did not show it.

“They are mine. Their setting commissioned and paid for centuries ago, however, dwarven greed meant my property was never returned.” 

“An unfortunate affair. I wonder, though, why you felt a host of elven warriors on our doorstep was the appropriate response.” Bilberry asked, just the smallest hint of affront coloring her tone.

“I offered a more than generous deal to Thorin Oakenshield when we met in my kingdom; he refused.”

She recalled his so called generous deal. “Met is a kind word.”

“Taken, stripped, wrongfully imprisoned…” Fili listed. “Still haven’t replaced all my daggers.”

Thranduil waved a dismissive hand. “Your company trespassed on my lands. I had every right--”

“The path through the Greenwood is under _your_ care, My Lord.” Bilberry declared. “It is supposed to be a safe route through the forest for travelers, but the path as it stands would cause even an experienced Ranger to lose his way. If we trespassed, it was only because you forsook your duty.”

The first signs of anger flickered across Thranduil’s face before he restored his aloof demeanor. “So you will not return that which is mine. A pity.”

“On the contrary, I have every intention of giving you your property.” Bilberry smiled pleasantly. “You are correct, it is yours, wrongfully withheld, and it should be returned.”

Thranduil took a seat in his chair. “Even after your king refused?”

“Thorin could not accept the terms of your deal; you will accept the terms of mine.” She said.

“And what terms would those be?”

“First, you will return that which was taken from the company of Thorin Oakenshield while they were wrongly imprisoned within your dungeon, including Orcrist. It was recovered from a troll cave by Thorin and then bestowed upon him by Lord Elrond while the company were guests of Rivendell. I’ve a full itemized list here,” she pulled out the list she’d written the night before and set it on the table, “the items are theirs, wrongfully withheld, and should be returned.”

Bard smirked and poured himself a glass of wine while Thranduil looked at the piece of parchment on the table like it was scum tarnishing his delicate boot.

“I understand, of course, you do not have these items with you at the moment, however they will be found and returned as soon as possible. Similarly, I do not have your starlight gems with me. They reside within the hoard still, and have not yet been recovered. The second term to the agreement is that you will give us time to find them. Smaug was not a beast of organization, all of the treasure gathered by the dragon was piled in one vast room and it will be the work of lifetimes to sort through it all.”

“Surely you exaggerate.” Bard frowned. 

“It took me hours of digging to stumble upon _Smaug._ ” She explained. “And I believe you are familiar with how large the dragon was.”

“You expect me to trust my property is being searched for, for an indeterminate amount of time?” Thranduil sneered. “What guarantee can you make that the same greed does not take over Thorin Oakenshield as it did his grandfather?” 

Bilberry fought to keep herself calm. The obstinate elf was making it very difficult, however. “I have shown that my word is true, but a written agreement will be drafted--”

“A contract did not stay the greed of Thror. That weakness is within his blood, halfling. The entire race is influenced by little else.”

“Thorin is _not_ his grandfather, and as you so insultingly felt the need to use the pejorative halfling, I can assume you know I am no dwarf and will be held to no such ridiculous racial stigma.” Bilberry snapped along with the last of her self-control. “The weakness you speak of… gold-madness, dragon-sickness. Greed. The only one displaying an unreasonable desire for precious metals and stones is _you_ , Thranduil elf-king. The gold in that mountain is unassessable. It will take time to find your shiny mathoms, but a hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf, right? You’re patient. You can wait.”

Thranduil stared at her dumbstruck and there was silence in the tent. The outburst from the mild-mannered hobbit caught everyone off guard long enough that she was able to compose herself and continue at a more respectful tone, though void of the pleasantness and cheer of before. 

“One last condition: this cannot be yet another grievance in the history between your peoples. Dwarves and elves have so much potential for greatness working _together_ , it is a shame that tensions between you are so high.” Bilberry deplored. “Once the deal is struck, neither party will bring this trespassing incident up as a reason for animosity.”

At that, Thranduil looked to Fili. “Your people agreed to this?”

Fili shrugged with a nonchalance, “In the grand scheme of things, this is hardly the worst thing we’ve done to each other.”

“Indeed,” Thranduil conceded quietly.

The elf said nothing for a time; he simply stared at Bilberry. She didn’t back down or show that his gaze disturbed her a little. The gravity behind those ice-blue eye spoke volumes to the nature of the elf king. He’d seen so much in the ages he’d lived, and yet he looked at her like she was something he’d never seen before. 

“I accept your terms.” Thranduil said at last, bowing respectfully. He picked up the list and looked it over. “Most of this is with my stores still. I will have it brought to you within a week, however Legolas has taken charge of Orcrist and is scouting to the north. When he returns, it will be delivered as well.”

“My Lady,” Bard entreated, “I know you will wish for the elven forces to withdraw, but I ask that you hold off.”

“Why?” Fili asked.

“We’ve wounded, women and children. The elves have healers and they make my people feel safe despite the harsh conditions.” Bard explained. “I ask only that you allow them to remain long enough to tend to the injured.”

“My warriors will stay within the city to assist the people of Dale, of course. Unless… you do not wish for us to offer aid to our allies?” Thranduil challenged.

“All we ask is you pull your warriors from the walls. We are no longer on the brink of war, your warriors need not be in such an aggressive position.” She suggested. 

“It will be done.” Thranduil agreed.

“Thank you, My Lord, My Lady.” Bard sighed, relieved.

“Send word when you have retrieved the company’s possessions and we will set up the exchange.” At Thranduil’s nod, she continued, “Bard, if you would allow us that time to gather your payment as well?”

“Of course.”

“Excellent. See you then, My Lords.”

Bilberry and Fili met Dalin outside and then headed back to the mountain. As soon as they were back, Fili recounted everything for the others, giving her verbal assault of Thranduil a particularly enthusiastic recreation. The company congratulated her on her winning negotiating skills and were pleased to hear their gear would be return to them within a week. They agreed to start looking for the starlight gems while they gathered the restitution for the Men of the Lake. 

Gloin, Oin, Bifur, Bofur, and Balin were tasked with that while Dori, Nori, Ori, Bombur, Dwalin, and the princes were tasked with continuing restoration of the necessary areas of the Mountain. Thorin went with the restoration group and Bilberry to the treasury.

They worked diligently through the rest of the day, agreeing to break for dinner as a group. Bilberry asked Bofur to tell her when it was time as her internal clock hadn’t yet adjusted to not being able to see the sun.

Dinner was simple rations, but everyone met in the hall to eat and the company was relaxed and happy again, like they had been on the journey. When the company had all finished dinner, Bilberry sent Thorin a meaningful look. At his nod, she stood up and asked for everyone’s attention. Thorin stood as well and smiled encouragingly at her before addressing the company.

“My friends,” he said, “we want you all to share in our good news.”

“Is this the part where we act surprised when they tell us they’re getting married?” Kili stage whispered to his brother.

Fili kicked Kili out of his chair, and he fell to the floor with a yelp.

“See if we let you babysit.” She smirked, hand over her growing belly for subtle emphasis.

“By my beard…” Gloin swore softly. 

“You’re pregnant!” Bofur shouted joyfully.

The room exploded with noise as the dwarves all cheered and congratulated them. She was a little surprised, in truth. Thorin and her weren’t married yet, likely wouldn’t be before the baby was born. Thorin had told her that a child was too important a blessing to ever be anything less than cause for celebration, but it was another thing entirely to see it.

The whole company took their turns giving her hugs and pats on the back with their words of congratulations and then Bofur and Nori pulled her onto the table while Fili and Kili dragged their uncle up as well. The brothers then pulled out fiddles and started up a tune while Bofur and Dwalin sang along. The company picked up the song with either voice or instrument and she laughed, delighted when Thorin asked her to dance. He danced them up and down the long table and it was the most she’d ever seen him smile.

When the song ended, Bilberry started up the next, sharing her gift to Thorin with the others and sang her song. Thorin joined her with a low harmony, by the second chorus, Fili and Kili were playing along on their fiddles, and every dwarf with a free hand had a glass raised in toast. Another cheer went up once the song ended, and Thorin gave her a passionate kiss. 

The company allowed them to get off the table after that, and though spirits were still high, it had been a long day of hard labor. Most of the company settled down to rest, if not to sleep, but Oin pulled Bilberry aside. She followed him to a quiet room where they wouldn’t disturb or be disturbed by the others. 

“As the best healer in the mountain,” Oin winked, “it’s my job to make sure you’re coming along as you should.”

“Of course,” Bilberry understood the importance of healer involvement with pregnancies. The midwives of the Shire had saved more than a few fauntlings catching problems early.

“Now. How long is a normal hobbit pregnancy?”

“Ten months, give or take a few days.”

Oin harrumphed. “I thought as much. Dwarrowdam carry for twelve months, lass.”

“A full year?” Bilberry blanched. “Gracious. How long do you think a half-dwarrow will take to come to term?”

“I can’t say I’ve heard of one ever being born, but, at a guess, probably somewhere in the middle.” Oin shrugged. “No way to know until he’s born.”

“It could be a girl.” She chided. “Hobbits are as likely to have one as the other.”

“We’ll see.” He did not sound convinced. “How big are the babes?”

“Fairly small at first, maybe two and a half kilos?” Bilberry estimated. She hadn’t held a newborn in a while, but that sounded about right. “Though I did hear of a Proudfoot who was three and half kilos; his poor mother.”

“I see,” Oin grumbled, “When Gimli was born, he was over four kilos, and that’s about average.”

“Oh my.”

“Don’t get too worked up, Lass. I’m sure the babe will be somewhere in the middle.” Oin promised. “We’ll keep an eye on ye to make sure you’re alright.”

She nodded. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Oin.”

“Thank _you_ , Lass.” Oin shook his head. “I think we all know what brought him out of the madness.”

Oin let her go with a promise to come to him if she thought something was wrong. Anything. He wanted to keep a close eye on her development. 

She found Thorin talking with his nephews and hesitated, willing to give them privacy if they wanted it, but Thorin waved her over when he saw her. 

“Ready for bed, Ghivashel?”

“We have beds?”

Fili and Kili smiled proudly, “We restored the royal wing today. Everyone gets a real bed.”

Real beds sounded wonderful, and there were more than enough for the whole company in the royal wing so she didn’t feel bad about taking advantage of the opportunity. She and Thorin took his old room, leaving the King’s Suite empty for now, and it was marvelous to sleep on a mattress once again.


	16. The Battle of the Five Armies

The week they spent waiting to hear from the elves was largely uneventful. The dwarves broke up into two groups, one for restoration, the other to the treasury. Bombur announced that he’d gotten the kitchens into a serviceable state by the end of the week, and headway was being made slowly but surely in restoring the barracks. Most of Dain’s men would be soldiers, after all, and it seemed as good a place as any to put them.They were easily able to gather the restitution money for Bard, so Bilberry and her team spent a lot of time looking for Thranduil’s gems, but, as she’d suspected, it was taking awhile to find them amidst the hoard of treasure. She, Balin, and Ori worked on the written contract for Thranduil in the evenings until they were satisfied with it, at which point she had Thorin sign it. By time the messenger from the elves arrived saying their items had been recovered from the palace, almost everything was in place, and they agreed to meet in the morning. 

Bilberry convinced Thorin to let her make the exchange in Dale, rather than Ravenhill. The climb up would be extremely difficult with a cartful of gold, and just as troublesome on the way back with all of their gear. Thorin conceded, but ordered her to take the brothers Ri along as well for additional support. 

That night the barrier at the front gate was given a doorway, small enough to be easily defensible, but large enough for them to get through with the cart of gold. Looking at the path up to the city, Bilberry wished for a pack animal to attach the cart to, but they would have to make do. They would make for Dale in the predawn hours, giving them time to get there just as the sun rose; she didn’t want to delay any longer than necessary, but fixing the gate hadn’t been something the dwarves were willing to do ahead of time. 

The dwarves all flatly refused to let her help haul the cart, and she, in turn, refused to ride on it. They arrived in Dale as she planned, just as the sun rose, and were greeted by Bard near the city gate. 

“Good morning, My Lady.”

“Lord Bard.” She smiled. “How fares Dale?”

“The elves have been a boon; most of our injured are much recovered despite the less than spectacular accommodations.” Bard reported. “But there is improvement there as well. We’ve managed with what we could find.”

“Hopefully reconstruction will go a bit faster now.” Bilberry made a small gesture to the cart behind her. 

Bard nodded and led them through the city to a large building that was more intact than the others around it. The early hour meant there weren’t too many people milling about, but the streets weren’t empty either. Alfrid stood waiting by the building as they came up.

“Sire, I see the dwarves have finally decided to make good on their promise.” 

“Alfrid.” Bard said in a warning tone. 

“No disrespect, of course.” The weasley man smiled, eyeing the cart with interest. “Is the rest of it coming?”

Bard sighed. “This is the agreed upon price, and they were more than generous.”

Alfrid’s eyes moved from Bard to each of the dwarves. Their armor and weapons, the fine beads in their beards and hair, and finally to her, the mithril peaking out around her collar and the single platinum bead she’d let Thorin put in her courting braid that morning. She watched him catalogue all of it and waited for him to make some remark. 

All he did was bow and smile, though. “Of course. My mistake, Sire.”

“Go tell Lord Thranduil that the envoy from Erebor has arrived.” Bard ordered, and Alfrid scurried off.

“Have they named you King, then?” Fili asked.

“Unfortunately, after this, I’m afraid they just might.” Bard muttered, and began helping them unload the cart. 

Word spread quickly, it seemed, and before they were done unloading, many of the townsfolk had arrived to watch. The crowd didn’t look at them like Alfrid had, though. Some even cried, grateful for the hope. Cheers of, “We’re saved,” and “Valar be praised,” were heard occasionally as the people realized what was in the chests.

“Thank you again,” Bard shook her hand as the last of the gold was secured away.

“I look forward to further dealings with you and your people, Bard.” Bilberry told him.

An elf arrived with a message inviting Bard and her envoy to the elf king’s tent where their delivery waited. They made their way through the city quickly and met Thranduil at his tent. A small host of elves all carrying parcels stood around the entrance, and she stepped forward to address the king. “Hail, Lord Thranduil.”

“As promised, all that was taken is returned,” Thranduil bowed politely. As one, his men moved forward and placed their burdens into the cart. “By all means, have your companions check while we speak inside. I would hate to think we had missed something.”

Bilberry gestured to Dori and Ori and they began to go through the parcels, sorting by owner, while Nori and Dwalin stood guard. Fili and Bard followed her into the tent with Thranduil.

“Orcrist?”

“Legolas has not yet returned.” Thranduil informed her, pouring glasses of wine. He handed one to Bard, then to her, keeping the third for himself. 

Bilberry frowned at the slight against Fili, and handed him her glass. She wasn’t keen on drinking the elf king’s wine so early in the morning. “I apologize, My Lord. I am not accustomed to spirits this early in the morning.”

Thranduil accepted her apology with a nod and continued. “I suppose it is too much to hope that the Gems of Lasgalen have been recovered?”

“We have looked, but as I said, the hoard is vast.” She said and pulled the contract out of her coat. “I do have the written agreement however, as promised.”

Thranduil took the paper and looked it over as he sipped his wine. “It is acceptable.”

“My Lord Bard, if you would be so kind as to witness the document as well?” She requested after Thranduil had signed. Bard took the quill from Thranduil and signed handing both quill and contract back to the elf once he was done.

“I believe this concludes our business for the moment.” Thranduil stated.

“It is my hope that we can rebuild the alliances of Men, Dwarves, and Elves. I do not expect it to be an easy process, nor swift, but I do believe that it can be done, and should be done.” Bilberry proposed. She’d had this discussion in mind since the negotiations at Ravenhill, but tensions had still been a little too high at the time. “I wish for you both to consider it; not right away, of course. Neither Dale or Erebor is stable enough for true talks to take place, but when we’ve restored order to both kingdoms, I would like to open negotiations toward that goal.”

“Dale would welcome such an alliance.” Bard declared easily.

Thranduil’s assessing gaze turned to her once again, and she held her breath, hoping the elf king would show a willingness toward cooperation. 

“I will consider the matter.” He evaded, still it was better than a no.

“Thank you, My Lords.” She and FIli bowed and rejoined the others outside. 

Dwalin already had Grasper and Keeper strapped to his back, and it looked like the others had all claimed their weapons as well. Ori handed Fili his pile of daggers and the prince started putting them all away in their various places. Nori handed her half a dozen daggers as well, presumably from his own stash, and helped her hide them about her person as well.

“Everything accounted for?” She asked. “The only thing that should be missing is Orcrist.”

“Aye.” Dwalin nodded. “All here.”

The sound of rapid horse hooves on stone coming up from the other side of Thranduil’s tent drew their attention, followed by an all too familiar voice demand loudly, “You must set aside your petty grievances with the Dwarves. War is coming!”

“Was that Gandalf?” Ori asked.

“Know anyone else who makes that kind of entrance?” Fili grinned.

Bilberry rolled her eyes but couldn’t deny it either. She made her way back inside the tent. 

The wizard turned at her arrival, surprised. “Bilberry Baggins!”

“Gandalf,” she waved a hand between her dwarves and Thranduil and Bard, “our grievances have already been settled.”

“Indeed, it seems your information is out of date.” Thranduil sneered.

“What war do you speak of?” Bard asked.

“The cesspits of Dol Guldur have been emptied. You’re all in mortal danger.” Gandalf continued.

“For once, speak plainly Gandalf.” Bilberry begged. 

“Armies of orcs are on the move. These are fighters. They have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength.”

Thranduil did not sound convinced. “Why show his hand now?”

“Because we forced him.” Gandalf explained leading them all outside so they could see Erebor’s gate. “We forced him when the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland. The dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor. Azog the Defiler was sent to kill them. His master seeks control of the mountain. Not just for the treasure within, but for where it lies, it’s strategic position.”

“The Watchtower of the North.” Bilberry said, remembering what Beorn had called it. 

The wizard nodded. “This is the gateway to reclaiming the lands of Angmar in the North. If that fell kingdom should rise again, Rivendell, Lorien, the Shire, even Gondor itself will fall.”

“These orc armies you speak of, Mithrandir, where are they?”

Gandalf shook his head. “They will be here in less than an hour.”

Bard swore and rushed off to organize his people. Thranduil was slower to accept Gandalf at his word, but eventually called his men to organize as well. 

“We need to return to the mountain.” Dwalin urged.

“And risk being caught in the open when the orcs arrive?” Nori countered.

Bilberry turned to Gandalf, “Can you get us there before the orcs?”

“Not all,” The wizard admitted. “But I can take you--”

“I will not leave them.” Bilberry snapped. 

“Lass,” Dwalin started, but she cut him off. 

She shook her head, adamant. “I will not abandon any of you just to save myself.”

Reluctantly, Dwalin nodded and the others followed suit. 

Satisfied, she turned back to Gandalf. “Can you send a message?” 

“Possibly.” Gandalf looked up and scanned the sky for something. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for, and he hit his staff against the stone. At first, she didn’t know what was supposed to happen, but then in the distance she saw a bird take off and head their way. As it got closer, she saw it was a raven. “Fili, if you would hold your arm out, there’s a good lad.”

Fili did as ordered and the raven landed on his arm with a squawk. “Can you take a message to my uncle?”

The bird clacked its beak at the prince. 

“I think I understood that.” Fili said surprised. 

“The line of Durin and the ravens have long been friends, Fili son of Vili.” Gandalf told him. “I find communication is key to any good friendship.”

“Fili,” Bilberry reminded him, “warn Thorin of the orcs and that that’s why the elves and men are arming for battle.”

“Did you get that?” Fili asked the bird. It cawed quietly and launched into the sky, racing toward the mountain. “She’ll tell him. Now what?”

“Now I must speak with Thranduil, if you will excuse me. Keep her safe.” Gandalf said, and then left, making his way through the throngs of people.

“We must help them.” Bilberry ordered. The dwarves looked at her, ready to argue, but she stood her ground. “What hope have we of an alliance if we do not stand with them?”

“War is no place for a hobbit,” Dori tried, “especially one in your condition.”

“Thorin would gut us himself if we let you fight.” Dwalin agreed.

Bilberry sighed, exasperated. Rather than argue, she marched over to where the Men were preparing and started helping pass out arms. They could follow or not as they chose, but she would argue no further. She wasn’t keen on fighting, but neither would she hide while her friends and family went to war. Ori and Fili joined her quickly, passing out the heavier weapons with ease, and soon the others started helping with armor. They were only six, but they didn’t have to worry about arming themselves, so they could spend more time making sure everyone else had armor and weapons.

Bard found them there and gave them a grateful nod before saying, “I know you are eager to return to the mountain. March with us, and we will do all we can to get you there safely.”

“Aye,” Dwalin relented, “that might be for the best.”

Already, elves were streaming out onto the field between Dale and Erebor, forming ranks with the easy grace inherent in their race. It was not long before the land in front of the city was awash in golden armor. Thranduil rode atop his great elk, and she could just make out a pointed grey hat walking along beside him. 

Dwalin and Fili took charge of the armed Men, urging them into a semblance of formation while Bard climbed onto his horse. Dori and Nori hoisted her up, rather against her will, and soon she was on the horse as well. 

“Really?” She glared at them.

“Hold on tight, My Lady.” Bard advised.

Bard led the way out and the ranks of Men, plus a few dwarves, joined the host of elves. As they marched toward the mountain, Bard was joined by Thranduil and Gandalf.

“Would it not have been better for you to stay within the city?” Thranduil asked her.

“I will defend that which is mine, Lord Thranduil.” Bilberry declared. 

“Look, another raven!” Ori shouted, pointing. 

It flew over the field from the East and headed for the mountain, so it wasn’t one from Thorin.

“It’s Dain.” Dwalin said and looked to the hill to the East.

She followed his gaze and saw an army of dwarves crest the hill, led by a dwarf on a very large boar.

“Excellent timing.” Fili grinned. 

“Or very bad timing,” she muttered, “depending on if they ever got word the elves weren’t going to attack us.”

The army of dwarves headed down the hill, making for the gates of Erebor, when a low rumble and the ground shook. Both armies stopped, confused, as the rumbling grew in intensity. 

“Were-worms.” Gandalf deduced. 

The hills to the southeast exploded as enormous worms burst forth from the ground, screeching and crushing rocks as they crested before slithering back down into the ground, leaving huge gaping tunnels behind in their wake. A horn sounded and then the army of orcs poured from the tunnels in greater numbers than she’d ever seen.

“Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!” The war cry rang out over the field and the dwarven soldiers charged forward, past the ranks of elves and men, to engage the enemy. 

Thranduil shouted an order at his warriors and they released volley after volley of arrows into the oncoming hoard before advancing as well. The elves and dwarves worked together to hold back the enemy’s approaching charge. The shield wall pushed the orcs back as a cadre of goat-mounted dwarves drove into the orcs from the side. 

The orc horn sounded again, and trolls--though obviously not the same kind as they met before--charged out of the tunnels and swung massive clubs, tearing swaths of dwarves and elves down with each swing. Thranduil gave another order and more arrows flew, taking down several trolls almost instantly. 

Another horn blasted and this time she looked for the source. Atop the tower at Ravenhill, she found it. The large horn, and several complex flags that were obviously giving the orcs their instructions. 

The dwarf atop the great boar trotted up beside them, clearing the way of orcs with his warhammer. “Good morning. And how are we?”

“This is hardly the time and place for pleasantries.” Thranduil snapped.

“Ach, I wasn’t talking to you, now was I?” Dain goaded. 

“It is good to see you, Dain.” Dwalin shook the dwarf’s hand. 

“Wish we had more time to catch up, but Thorin sent me here for a reason. Where’s the wee lassie?”

“Excuse me?” Bilberry squeaked, indignant, tearing her eyes away from Ravenhill to glare at the dwarf.

“Thorin asked I bring you to the mountain; he was particularly insistent upon it, actually.” Dain told her.

Gandalf picked her up off Bard’s horse and set her onto the pig in one quick motion that left her no time to argue and, honestly, a little dizzy.

“That is quite enough of me being shoved onto random animals, please and thank you.” Bilberry grumbled, thoroughly unamused. Before she could slide off the boar to rejoin the others, another horn sounded, distracting her. 

“Azog,” Gandalf looked from Ravenhill to the orcs as part of the army moved away from the fighting and toward the city. “He’s trying to cut us off.”

“All of you! Fall back to Dale!” Bard shouted to his men, ordering them back to Dale to defend the city. Gandalf went with him. Thranduil and his personal guards were tearing through the enemy as well, on their way to Dale to help Bard. 

“I will not go to the mountain and hide!” She shouted at Dain, attempting to slide off the boar.

The fighting was upon them now, and the dwarves of the company that were with her spread out to keep the orcs away. Dain hauled her back up. “We’re not going anywhere until we’ve cleared out some of this rabble.” Dain shouted back. “Hold on.”

He charged into the fray and she drew Sting, slicing and stabbing as opportunity presented itself. The enemy was many however, and a lucky orc managed to stab the boar, sending both Dain an Bilberry to the ground. She rolled, quick to get back on her feet and stabbed an orc coming for Dain from behind, and watched, both impressed and concerned, when Dain began headbutting orcs to death.

Dwalin, Fili, and the brothers Ri were at their side in moments.

“We need a new plan.” Fili observed.

A guttural cry of a troll gave them enough warning to scatter as the beast blundered its way to them, hand and feet replaced by flails and clubs. The orc riding the poor troll tugged on the reins, urging it to attack again. It headed for Fili, so she drew a dagger Nori had given her and threw it, finding her mark in the orc’s neck. As the orc fell, his dead weight tugged on the chain, pulling the troll away from Fili, but toward her. It gave an agonized cry as the chain continued to pull at it and one of the flails headed straight for her. She dodged, but the thing kept rampaging in her direction. She tripped dodging the second flail and scrambled to get to her feet. A hand grabbed hers and hauled her up, pulling her out of the way of the troll’s deadly steps, and _Bofur_ hopped up onto the troll’s back and took control of the reins.

She looked up at her rescuer, overwhelmed with relief to see an all too welcome face. “Thorin!” 

“Amrâlimê, are you hurt?”

She shook her head, “You?”

“I am unharmed. You should be in the mountain.”

“At this point,” she drew another dagger and threw it at an orc coming up behind Thorin, “I’m not sure I could get there, even if I wanted to.”

Thorin pulled her to the side and sliced the head off another orc that got too close. “You may be right about that.”

Bilberry glanced around and counted all thirteen of her dwarves. “Azog is on Ravenhill, he’s commanding the orcs from there.”

“Thorin!” Dain shouted cheerfully. He made his way over to them, easily dispatching of the few orcs who tried to stop him. The two embraced quickly in greeting. “That’s a fiery one you picked, Cousin.”

Bilberry curtsied with a smirk. 

“There’s too many of these buggers, Thorin.” Dain assessed. “I hope you’ve got a plan.”

“Aye. We’re going to take out their leader.” Thorin told him before pulling a riderless goat over to his side. He mounted quickly and declared, “I’m gonna kill that piece of filth.”

“Thorin!” She held onto the reins of the goat, stopping him. 

“You cannot do this, you’re the king!” Dain objected as well.

“That is why I must do it.” Thorin argued. 

“And how do you plan to fight your way single-handed to Ravenhill?” Dain demanded. 

A chorus of bleating and thundering wheels answered Dain’s question as Balin, Dwalin, Fili and Kili road up on a goat-drawn chariot, stopping next to Thorin, awaiting his order. She contemplated climbing up with them, but there was no room.

Thorin looked to her pleadingly and worked her hand free of the reins, “Stay with Dain, he’ll keep you safe.”

“If you die, I will be very cross with you Thorin Oakenshield.” Bilberry told him sternly, stepping away a safe distance. “And you lot,” she said to the others, “stay together, and come back _alive._ ”

Thorin gave the signal to charge once she was clear, leading the way to Ravenhill. 

“You’re all mad bastards.” Dain chuckled. “I like it.”

Bilberry waited just long enough for them to get out of sight before turning to Dain. “We’re going after them.”

“Now wait just a minute, Lassie--”

She poked him hard in the chest, “My name is Bilberry Baggins, and you can either come with me or stay out of my way, but I am going.”

Dain looked awfully tempted, but shook his head. “His orders--”

“All he said was to stay with you; he said nothing about not following him.” Bilberry pointed out with a grin. 

“Tiny, but fierce.” Dain chuckled, “You’re as mad as he is.”

“That’s what makes it fun.” 

Dain followed her as they made their way after Thorin and the others. “Just the two of us isn’t going to help them much, just so you’re aware.”

“That’s why we’re going to get help.” Bilberry made for Dale, cutting orcs that got in her way, not even caring if they died or not, and any that still posed a threat were taken out by Dain soon enough.

The closer they got to the city, the less resistance they met. The men and elves had done a good job of clearing out the orcs that swarmed the city, but the cost was high. The dead were everywhere, and she tried not to look at faces. She and Dain ran through the lower levels of the city, following the sound of fighting. There was a grey-haired wizard in this city that _would_ help her if she had to drag him by the beard to get it.

“Gandalf!” Someone else called. 

She followed the voice and found Legolas and Tauriel talking with Gandalf. “--army. Bolg leads a force of Gundabad Orcs. They are almost upon us.”

“Gundabad?” Gandalf grumbled. “This was their plan all along. Azog engages our forces, then Bolg sweeps in from the North.”

“Ravenhill.” Dain cursed. “It’s a bloody trap.”

The two elves and Gandalf turned, noticing both her and Dain for the first time. Bilberry didn’t give them time to ask why. “Thorin is on his way up there right now with Dwalin, Balin, Fili, and Kili. We came to get help to go after them.”

“I will go.” Tauriel volunteered.

“It will take more than one elf, dwarf, and hobbit to dispatch an army.” Gandalf argued.

“I will go as well.” Legolas offered. “Convince my father to send his men to Ravenhill after us.”

Gandalf nodded and left in search of Thranduil.

“If there’s another army coming, I have to help my men.” Dain shook his head regretfully. “Lass…”

“I’m going with them,” she stated. “Thank you for helping me, Dain, but I have to get to Thorin and the others. Go, organize your men.”

He sighed but nodded. “Mahal keep you safe, Bilberry Baggins.”

Dain left, headed back into the carnage below. She turned then to the elves and they departed together for Ravenhill. They were hardly slowed as Tauriel and Legolas cut down orc after orc that stood in their way until they reached the cliff. There was a trail that led up, but it was a winding thing that would take time. The straight path would be to climb it.

“Hold on to me; I will not be slowed.” Legolas offered, kneeling so she could climb on his back.

Bilberry did as asked, too eager to get to Thorin and the others to worry about dignity. Legolas and Tauriel climbed, elven grace and strength taking them up with speed. Once they were on flat land again, Bilberry let go and ran with the elves. 

They came to the area that had been the set for their first meet, the ground now covered in dead goblins, and found Thorin and Dwalin looking out over the edge, but no Fili, Kili, or Balin.

“Thorin!” 

He whirled. “Bilberry, what are you doing here?” 

“You have to leave here. Now.” Bilberry rushed. 

“Azog has another army attacking from the North; this watchtower will be completely surrounded.” Legolas elaborated. 

“That orc scum is in there, I say we push on.” Dwalin said.

“No.” Thorin stopped him. “That’s what he wants, to draw us in. This is a trap.” 

“Where’re the others?” Bilberry asked. 

“Fili and Kili are scouting ahead.” Thorin took a step toward the tower, as if ready to rush in and get them out heedless of the danger. “Find them. Call them back.”

“Are you sure about this?” Dwalin questioned, eyeing the elves suspiciously.

“Do it.” Thorin insisted. “We’ll live to fight another day.”

The drumbeats from the tower froze her in place more than the ice around her ever could. There was something dark and sinister in the relentless pounding of the drums as the tower ahead lit up with the arrival of orc forces. She gasped, terrified, as she saw Fili dangling in the hand of Azog himself.

Azog taunted them in black speech as he held Fili above the ledge, but Bilberry was tired of the orc spewing incomprehensible filth at them. “Shoot him.” She hissed. 

Together, Legolas and Tauriel fired at Azog. The orc swung up his metal appendage to cut the arrows out of the air, pulling Fili back onto solid ground in the process. The prince got himself free by pulling one of his daggers out and slicing Azog at the wrist. Once the orc dropped him, he began climbing down on the outside of the tower. More arrows followed the first, killing a few orcs behind Azog, and then more, forcing the orc to retreat from the edge, away from Fili. 

As soon as Fili started making his way down, Thorin ran across the ruins to meet him. Dwalin followed soon after, but before Bilberry could join them, monstrous bats swarmed overhead and a vanguard of forces from Gundabad arrived. Bilberry used the rocks at her feet as projectiles, taking out an orc for each rock she threw, while Legolas and Tauriel cut down more with blades. Dwalin returned with a battle cry, and managed to kill just as many orcs as the elves. 

The largest orc in the group, skin fused with metal plates, charged at her, but she ducked his swing by a hair’s breadth, falling onto her back in the process. Rather than finish her off, the orc kept going. 

Bilberry got back onto her feet and tackled an orc about to take a swing at Tauriel’s head. She drove Sting into its neck and then threw a dagger into an orc’s knee, causing it to stumble. When it came into range, she pulled Sting free and slit its throat, then Bilberry yanked her dagger out and put it back in her belt. A blow on her back meant an orc tried to stab her from behind, but the Mithril held, and she rolled with the force, taking her out of its reach. 

Tauriel helped her to her feet after killing Bilberry’s would-be attacker. “Bolg is going after Oakenshield.” 

“Go!” Dwalin shouted. “I’ve got this.”

Dwalin was holding his own just fine, so Bilberry left with the elves after Bolg. They ran down the embankment and found all three Durin’s facing off against both Bolg and Azog on the ice. She could see that her dwarves were injured, and it was taking a toll on their ability to fight. 

More orcs were coming too, but Legolas and Tauriel cut them down with arrows before they could get close. Bilberry directed her focus on Bolg, as the closest orc, and threw her daggers. The first one glanced off his armor, but the next found a home in his exposed left shoulder. The orc roared at her and she responded by putting a second dagger in his gut. Fili and Kili tried to attack Bolg while he was distracted, but a single swing from his mace sent both skidding across the ice. He pulled both daggers out and tossed them aside before charging her. 

Bilberry ran forward as well and dropped to her knees, sliding along the ice under Bolg’s swing, jamming two more daggers into his calves just above the top of his boots as she went by. The end of her slide was not as graceful as she’d hoped, but Tauriel and Legolas distracted Bolg while she got back to her feet. The elves were effectively keeping the orc busy so she went for Fili and Kili.

She reached Kili first. He had a cut on his head that was bleeding freely, and was clutching his ribs as he breathed in painful gasps. “Don’t move.”

“N-next time. Aim for h-his head.” He told her.

Bilberry glared at him. “Stop talking and let me look at you.”

“Is he dead?”

“Not yet. Legolas and Tauriel are keeping him busy.” She wiped away the blood from his head to get a look at the cut. It wasn’t deep enough for her to see bone, so she let it be. 

“T-Tauriel--”

“ _Don’t. Move._ ” Bilberry ordered as Kili tried to get up.

His ribs were her primary concern. She put her hands on his chest gently and told him to breathe, feeling for movement that would hint at a break. Three ribs on his right side were definitely broken, but it didn’t feel like they’d punctured anything. She dragged him to the edge of the ice, getting a firm grip on his coat to pull him out of danger. 

“Stay. I’m going for Fili.” She ordered.

Bilberry made her way to Fili to find him unconscious but breathing. She did a quick assessment and determined that his arm was broken, possibly his collarbone too. No damage to his ribs that she could find. He had a bump on the back of his head, probably from landing on the ice, but it wasn’t soft, so she tried not to worry too much. She pulled him to his brother, making sure to keep his head supported as she dragged him across the ice. 

“He’s unconscious but alive.” She told Kili before he could ask. “ _Stay here._ ”

Kili wasn’t looking at her though, but over her shoulder. “Tauriel!”

She turned. Legolas and Tauriel weren’t doing as well as she’d hoped. Bolg had Legolas flat against the ice, boot pressed against his back, keeping him pinned while he held Tauriel by the throat, arm raised to stab her with a spike. Bilberry grabbed a dagger from Fili’s collection and hurled it at Bolg. She had aimed for his head, but his arm got in the way at just the wrong moment, and the dagger dug into his armpit instead. 

Tauriel grabbed the dagger and tore it free, damaging Bolg’s arm to the point of uselessness, and then slammed the dagger into his head between the metal bands, twisting it once for certainty.

Bolg fell, dead, and the elves picked themselves up and hurried over to her and the brothers. 

“Kili.” Tauriel went to his side, checking his injuries with a healer’s critical eye. 

“Get them out; I’m going to help Thorin.” Bilberry told them.

The fight between Thorin and Azog had wandered away from the battle with Bolg, and she couldn’t see them at first. When she did find them, she forcibly bit back a scream. The pale orc was on top of Thorin, bearing down on him with all his weight behind his metal appendage, point poised over Thorin’s heart. She wasn't sure when the blade had made its way back into his hands, but Thorin was holding the orc off with Orcrist. Only just. The ice between her and Thorin was a mess of cracks and floating chunks, there was no way she could cross in time! Bilberry reached for a dagger, but she was all out and she hadn’t grabbed more of Fili’s. Frantically she looked around her, but there were no rocks on the ground for her to throw. She needed to find something! Anything! She couldn’t watch Thorin die for want of a _stone_ \--

Her hand flew to her coat pocket and reached in. Bilberry felt the cool, smooth surface of the Arkenstone beneath her fingers and grasped it tightly. With a silent prayer to Yavanna, she threw the Arkenstone with all her might and watched as it sailed through the air and nailed Azog in the temple. 

Azog reeled back on impact, giving Thorin all the opportunity he needed to push the pale orc off of him and reverse their positions, driving Orcrist into Azog’s chest with a triumphant bellow. Thorin stumbled to his feet and pulled the sword free and then beheaded the orc for good measure. 

Bilberry started across the ice hurriedly when Thorin fell to his knees. She watched anxiously as he picked up the Arkenstone from where it had landed next to Azog’s corpse, but she didn’t slow down. If he was going to be mad and yell at her for having the stone this whole time, he could do it _after_ she’d tended his injuries. 

“Thorin…” she could already see several tears in his armor that were bleeding too much for comfort. 

He reached for her as she knelt beside him, catching her hands in one of his. “You had it all this time…”

“Yes.” She didn’t deny it, there was no point. “I wanted to give it to you, a hundred times, I thought about giving it to you, but--” she cleared her throat and gathered her courage, “you just kept getting sicker and sicker…”

“You were afraid of me.” Thorin looked disgusted with himself and pulled away.

She pulled him right back and corrected vehemently, “Afraid _for_ you, of what it would do _to_ you. I am not afraid of you Thorin.”

He fell back with a grunt of pain and Bilberry cried out in surprise. Worried, she leaned over him. “Thorin!”

“Fili and Kili?”

“They’re alive. Tauriel and Legolas are taking care of them.” She promised.

Thorin placed the Arkenstone into her hands. “You’ll take care of them for me?”

“You are _not_ going to die on me.” Bilberry cried. “Thorin…”

“ zyungâl,” he cupped her cheek and she leaned into his touch, “my Bilberry.”

“Damnit, you stubborn dwarf! Stay with me!” She looked up and shouted for help, begged for someone to come help her.

Impossibly, her pleas were answered by _Beorn_ falling from the sky. Bilberry noticed the eagles then, as they joined the battle and tore through the Gundabad orcs joined by a combined force of dwarves and elves.

“You called, Little Bunny.” Beorn knelt beside her.

“He needs a healer.”

Beorn grunted. “Then we will find one.”

He stepped back and shifted before her eyes into his great bear form. Once his change was complete, he knelt as low as possible and waited. 

“Alright, time to get up.” She encouraged, tugging as carefully as possible.

Thorin grunted, pained, but was able to help her enough that she got him onto Beorn’s back. She climbed up behind him, keeping one hand on Thorin and the other in the bear’s fur. Once they were both secure, Beorn stood and loped away, headed for the healer’s tents below.

The effort to get onto Beorn’s back caused Thorin to fall unconscious, but he was breathing, if not particularly well. With nothing else to do, Bilberry talked to him as they rode.

“You cannot leave me alone to raise this child, Thorin. I need you. We have to pick a name still, and if you die I’ll have to do it on my own and I will not name him after you. Just so you’re aware. He’ll get a proper hobbit name like Isengrim or Aldis or… Shrub. Yes. Shrub son of Thorin. You have to live to stop me from doing something quite so foolish.”

Beorn huffed something that might have been a laugh for a bear. 

“Mistress Baggins!” Bard rode up next to her as Beorn entered Dale. “What…”

“Bard, good to see you alive.” Bilberry was relieved to see him unharmed as well. “Beorn arrived with the eagles. He’s a friend.”

“You have odd friends.” Bard eyed the bear with unease.

“You talk to birds, but I’m the odd one?” Bilberry accused. “Beorn is a skinchanger. His other form is that of a Man, so mind what you say. He can understand you.”

“My apologies.” Bard said. “Is Thorin…?”

“Alive.” She confirmed. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her palm. “We’re taking him to a healer.”

“Thranduil has a healer’s tent here in the city. Follow me.” Bard galloped ahead and Beorn lumbered after him without her urging. 

Bard helped her get Thorin off of Beorn’s back once they found the tent, and two elven healers met them at the flap. They brought Thorin to a cot without a single word of protest or complaint about the identity of their charge.

“Little Bunny.”

Beorn had changed back when she wasn’t looking. It was probably a testament to how tired and worried she was that his nakedness didn’t even phase her.

“Thank you, Beorn. Truly, I do not know what I would have done if you hadn’t--”

The skinchanger rested one large hand on her head and smiled. “Rest. Stress is not good for the child.”

“You’re pregnant?” One of the elves asked.

Mutely, she nodded and the elf hustled her over to another cot. She protested. “I’m fine.”

“You have been through a battle. You will sit and allow the healers to work.” Beorn told her sternly. “I will tell your friends where to find you.” He transformed again and left for the field below. 

Bard, however, had not left yet. “Congratulations.” He said.

“I do not feel today is a day for congratulations.” Bilberry said morosely, eyes once again on Thorin.

“Perhaps, but you have them regardless.” Bard understood and did not hold it against her. “How is he?” 

Two elves were working quickly to remove Thorin’s armor while a third prepared various supplies. The elf at her side guided her to lie back as she told both of them, “The damage is extensive, but not beyond hope.”

Habitually, she drank the tea the elf put in her hands, only stopping herself after she’d already taken half of it. “What’s in this?”

“Nothing harmful. Rest.” The elf promised and she could already feel her eyes droop. 

She drifted to sleep before she could muster the strength to object.


	17. Recovery

Wakefulness did not return swiftly. Her eyes refused to open, but she could make out voices if she tried.

“You’ve no business here.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, elfy.” Bilberry knew that voice… Her head was too heavy to think.

She heard nothing distinct after that, and whimpered when she was hoisted up off the bed. She fought to wake up, but she lost the fight for consciousness and fell back asleep. 

When Bilberry woke again it was to full wakefulness, but she opened her eyes to odd darkness. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, but she noticed a few things. Primarily that she’d been kidnapped. Her hands were bound, she was gagged, and she was in what appeared to be a burlap sack given the rough texture of the fabric against her skin and the limited light that filtered through. It was an improvement over the last burlap sack only in that it did not smell of troll. She struggled looking for the top of the bag or somewhere she could tear an opening.

“Oi! Quit struggling.” A voice hissed and pain flared in her hip as she was presumably kicked.

“Don’t damage the goods!” Another voice snapped. 

Bilberry stretched out as far as she could trying to escape the sack, but her feet hit solid resistance. Probably a wall. If she made enough noise, maybe someone would come investigate. She kicked as hard as she could, but she only got one good kick before she was hauled up.

“Yer gonna tip the boat if you don’t knock it off.” The second voice warned. Her head was suddenly uncovered as he opened the bag, but he cinched it closed around her neck. “Unless you wanna go for a swim…”

Indeed, she was in a boat on the lake. She couldn’t make out the shore for the fog, but the mountain was still large, so she wasn’t too far. Far enough for the water to be too deep for her to risk. Bilberry couldn’t swim--hadn’t met a hobbit who could--and doing so with her hands bound while in a sack was not going to make it any easier. She stopped struggling.

“Now,” she turned to the second voice as he spoke, “are you gonna behave?”

Talking around the gag in her mouth would be pointless. She glared at him instead.

“Put her back in the bag before someone sees.” Alfrid ordered. Now that her head was out of the bag, she could clearly make out his voice.

“Who’s gonna see?” The other man said, gesturing to the empty lake around them. “Fog’s too thick--”

The arrow that slammed into the boat belied the validity of his assessment. She recognized the fletching as Kili’s and cheered through the gag. Rescue had come in the form of a pissed off dwarrow.

“See what you’ve done?” Alfrid snapped. “Row, damnit, row!”

Bilberry was dropped as her captor grabbed one oar and started rowing. She kicked up with both feet and got Alfrid in the knee. He howled in pain and dropped the oar he’d been holding to clutch his knee.

“Stupid bitch!” He sneered and kicked her in the face.

Dazed temporarily, she fought to blink the tears away. He’d hit her cheekbone and it throbbed. Another arrow embedded itself in the oar’s handle as Alfrid reached for it, missing his fingers by millimeters. He yanked his hand away and she took the opportunity to kick the oar over the side of the boat.

“We can’t get paid if we’re dead. Toss her over!” Alfrid snarled, kicking her toward his partner.

Bilberry screamed as she was hauled up of the bottom of the boat. As he prepared to throw her into the lake, she saw another boat a little ways away with Kili and Tauriel. Kili looked more furious than she’d ever seen him before as he fired his bow once, twice, in rapid succession. The arrows found their marks in the chest of her captor, but as he fell, she was sent over the edge of the boat and all she saw after that was murky water.

Drowning was absolutely not on her list of ways to die, but circumstances seemed to work against her. As she plunged into the icy water, she twisted and struggled until she was able to kick her way out of the burlap sack, but she was running out of air and water filled her mouth through the gap left by the gag. Try as she might, she could not get herself to move upward through the water. The edges of her vision started to go black, and the painful need to breathe became almost too much when something grabbed ahold of her by the waist and she was moving up! She looked behind her and saw Tauriel pulling her through the water to the surface.

When they broke the surface of the water, Bilberry coughed out the water in her mouth and gasped in air, but the gag made the task hazardous as she pulled in water with every breath. Kili pulled her aboard their boat and quickly removed the gag and restraints, encouraging her to breathe with soothing murmurs. 

“Did he escape?” Tauriel asked, pulling herself into the boat.

“No.” Kili promised, thunderous expression so much like Thorin’s in that moment she imagined she could see a younger version of the king instead of the cheerful lad she knew. “He’s not going anywhere.”

Bilberry looked over Kili’s shoulder and saw Alfrid with his wrist pinned to his boat by one of Kili’s arrows, swaying from pain. 

As Tauriel closed the distance between the two boats, Bilberry noticed that Kili wasn’t rowing, wasn't doing much of anything other than measured breathing. “Your ribs,” she wheezed, remembering Kili’s injury. 

“I'm fine, Amadnam.” He smiled reassuringly.

“He has three broken ribs and a minor concussion.” Tauriel corrected. 

How had he managed to use his bow? The pain could not have made it easy. She could hardly scold him, however, as he had only done it in the attempt to rescue her. Instead, she squeezed his hand in thanks and sympathy.

Tauriel brought their boat next to Alfrid’s and jumped over to the other to recover both Alfrid and his dead accomplice. She snapped the arrow without remorse and tied Alfrid’s restraints extra tight to stem the loss of blood.

Apparently, they wanted him alive.

When he was brought on board Kili turned his hard gaze to Alfrid and stated, “You’re to be brought before the King for your crimes against the crown, and I personally guarantee: you will make it there alive.”

Bilberry was impressed he managed to make a promise of safety sound so threatening.

She sat next to Tauriel as the elf rowed them back to shore, and Kili kept himself firmly between Bilberry and Alfrid, not letting the man even look at her. Alfrid tried to escape only once on their way to shore; Kili caught him before he made it to the edge of the boat, throwing his elbow into Alfrid’s abdomen and knocking the wind from him. Kili then pinned him to his seat with an arrow slammed between his legs, into his coat and the bench. 

“Next one goes through your knee.” Kili warned him, voice full of malice.

There was a party waiting for them on shore. Bard, Gandalf, Legolas, Dwalin, and Dain all waited patiently on their various mounts for the boat to land. Legolas and Bard dismounted and met the boat in the shallows, bringing it in the rest of the way. Once it was ashore, Dwalin and Dain got off their rams and took Alfrid from the boat none too gently.

Kili helped her and then Tauriel from the boat; thought the elf didn’t require assistance, she took his hand anyway with a pleased smile. Bilberry observed the pair and wondered just how long it would be before Kili added a braid to his hair.

Bard and Legolas took Alfrid’s accomplice from the boat. “Jones. Did you have to kill him?” Bard asked.

“He was about to throw her into the lake.” Kili stated. “In a sack.”

“If you imagine anything other than execution awaited him…” Legolas shook his head.

“No.” Bard sighed. “I know the punishment for their crimes.”

“I’m sorry.” Bilberry offered sincerely. “There’s been too much death recently.”

“There has,” he agreed, “but this was not your fault, Mistress Baggins. The blame lies with those fools alone, and Alfrid will be held accountable.”

“A discussion for after you’ve seen a healer, my dear.” Gandalf wrapped her in a blanket from his saddlebags. 

Dwalin and Dain came up to them, back on their rams, as she tried to dry her hair a little with the blanket, Alfrid tied up with proper restraints between them. Dain shoved him forward to Legolas’ horse and the blonde elf mounted up before pulling Alfrid up as well. 

Dwalin turned to Bilberry and put a hand on her shoulder. “Ready lass?”

Finally! Someone _asked_ if she wanted to be put on a bloody animal rather than just put her there. Stubbornly, she almost said no, but she was too tired to walk all the way back to Dale, so she nodded instead and let Dwalin help her onto the ram to sit in front of him. 

Tauriel and Kili mounted a spare horse while Bard mounted his own, Jones slung over his horse’s back. Gandalf was the last one up, but the wizard led the way back to Dale.

A healer quickly took charge of both Bilberry and Tauriel, ushering them down from their rides and into the nearby tent. Bilberry was anxious to see Thorin, to make sure he was alright, but decided it might be better if she didn’t look like she’d nearly drowned recently. To her surprise, though, Thorin was waiting for her in the healer’s tent.

“ zyungâl,” Thorin tried to get up from his bed when he saw her enter. Bilberry went to him instead, and put a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him down. His hand found hers and pulled it to his lips to kiss her palm. “Forgive me for not protecting you--”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” She told him. “You were gravely injured and unconscious when they came. There was nothing you could have done.”

“You are injured.” He brushed a thumb under her eye where Alfrid had kicked her.

“But safe. Thanks to Kili and Tauriel.” Bilberry smiled at the elf. “She jumped into the lake to save my life.”

Thorin looked at Tauriel, “You have my gratitude twice over, Tauriel Bolg-Slayer, for the life of my One and unborn child.”

Gandalf made a disgruntled noise of surprise and Bilberry shot him an exasperated look. He mirrored her expression back at her and she rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like she’d ignored his advice; it had just come a few days too late. He could take his disapproving frown elsewhere if he was going to be that way about it.

“Let me see to my patients.” The elven healer requested shortly. “Then you may bicker.”

Bilberry decided she liked this elf. She gave Thorin a kiss and then allowed the healer to look her over. She was bruised, cold, and wet, but otherwise healthy. The healer gave her a warm cup of tea to help warm up, but Bilberry only accepted it once the elf promised it was _just_ tea. Tauriel took her own cup from the healer without protest.

They were given enough time to dry off while Thorin explained what would happen next with the trial. Bilberry was inordinately relieved to put on clean clothes followed by her Mithril shirt, waistcoat--ring in the pocket, undisturbed--and coat. Both the acorn and the Arkenstone were in her pockets as well, mercifully. The elves had removed her layers to make her more comfortable while she slept, and Alfrid hadn’t bothered to take her things when he took her. Fool. Just the bead in her hair, which he’d left with Thorin as a message. Bilberry sat calmly while Thorin rebraided her hair and returned the bead to its proper place.

Once she was ready, the healer’s tent turned into a courtroom. Dwalin and Kili helped Thorin to sit up so he could oversee the trial, much to both Bilberry and the healer’s grumbling. Bard, Thranduil, Legolas, and Dain joined them in the tent and brought a sniveling Alfrid with them. One additional side of the tent was opened to allow the company to watch the proceedings. It was the first time she’d seen them since the battle ended and Bilberry was relieved to see that they were all still alive and mostly undamaged.

“Alfrid of Laketown, your crimes against Erebor and the Greenwood will be heard, and sentence carried out according to law.” Gandalf announced. “Prepare yourself.”

Thorin nodded to the wizard and then addressed the court. “You’re charged with the kidnapping, assault, and attempted murder of Bilberry Baggins, future Queen of Erebor, and with the murder of Ecaeris of the Greenwood, healer of King Thranduil’s court.” He said. “We will hear from the witnesses first. Kili son of Vili and Tauriel Bolg-Slayer.”

Kili took his cue and stepped forward. “When we came to visit my uncle and Bilberry, we found the healer on the ground. Tauriel went to her, but it was too late.”

“Her neck was broken, My Lord.” Tauriel added. “She died instantly.”

“I noticed that Bilberry was not in her cot, but there was a note left on her bed with her bead, removed from her courting braid, on top.” From the murmuring of the listening dwarrow, Bilberry gathered that act was actually far worse than Alfrid had probably realized. “The note was a demand of ransom, to be paid in one day, or she would be killed.”

“Ecaeris had not been dead long; I was confident we could catch up and rescue Mistress Baggins before it came to that. I followed their tracks out of the city and when we determined they were headed for Esgaroth, we moved with haste to the lake. We found another boat on the water, but waited to confirm Mistress Baggins was aboard before intercepting.”

“I fired a warning shot into the side of the boat.” Kili explained. “When they tried to escape, I damaged the oar to delay them. When Alfrid ordered Bilberry tossed into the lake, I killed the man who had her, but I wasn’t fast enough.”

Bilberry wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but she couldn’t interrupt the testimony, and she wasn’t close enough for touch. Instead she settled on giving him a comforting smile.

“When Mistress Baggins fell into the lake, still bound in restraints, I dove in to help her.” Tauriel picked up. “Then maneuvered our boat next to Alfrid’s to apprehend him.”

When they were done, they bowed to Thorin. Bard stepped forward next, at Thorin’s request. Bard had been the one to explain to Thorin what had happened when he awoke. He explained he’d seen Tauriel and Kili leave the city while investigating the disappearance of a night guard. Since they’d only just arrived and were in a great hurry, he went to the only place they would have gone--Thorin’s tent--and found the same evidence they had. Bard had notified Thranduil and Gandalf after asking the thrushes to follow Kili and Tauriel and update him of their progress. When the thrushes reported they’d caught up to Alfrid, Bard took Gandalf, Legolas, Dwalin, and Dain to meet them, where he’d found his missing night guard was Alfrid’s accomplice in the abduction.

Then it was Bilberry’s turn. She recalled the conversation she’d overheard between Alfrid and Ecaeris while she was half asleep, waking up in a _bag_ , being dropped in the lake--”Hobbits can’t swim, you see. Tauriel didn’t just help me to the surface; she saved my life.”--and added her observations of Alfrid’s behavior when they’d delivered the restitution payment yesterday morning as well. 

After her testimony, Thorin glowered at the pathetic man before him. “Tradition states you are permitted to speak in your own defense; have you anything to say?”

“It was all Jones’ idea!” Alfrid shouted. “He filled my head with his pretty scheme, but he’s the one what killed the elf! He threw the girl into the lake! It wasn’t _me_ , not really.”

“You were caught in the act Alfrid Lickspittle. Whether instigator or willing accomplice, the crime is the same.” Thorin decreed. He turned to Thranduil and offered, “Lord Thranduil, your healer was a victim in this as well. Have you input regarding sentencing?”

Thranduil inclined his head, acknowledging Thorin’s offer. “In this, we are agreed. Death, in whichever manner you see fit.”

Alfrid shot to his feet. “No, you can’t do this! I’m not one of your subjects, you can’t--”

“You betrayed your people when you attacked an ally for your own greed.” Bard sounded tired, resigned, but firm, and he gave Alfrid a cold look. “The King Under the Mountain has every right to demand justice for the wrongs you have committed this day, and I see no reason to deny him.”

“You.” Alfrid whined, looking to Bilberry. “You said it yourself, there’s been too much death…” He took only one step toward her before Thorin was on his feet and standing between them. She couldn’t see Thorin’s face, but whatever expression he wore, it was enough to send Alfrid skittering back.

“Were you a dwarf, I would have your beard and braids before finally taking your head.” Thorin seethed, chest and back heaving from his labored breathing, though to anyone not aware how injured he was, the king simply looked incensed. 

“The shaving,” Bard asked quietly, “it’s about humiliation?”

“And to show he lacks all honor.” Thorin replied.

“Hanging then. It’s a death for traitors and cowards.”

Thorin nodded. “So be it.”

“No!” Alfrid cried and tried to run. 

He made his way past Fili, hitting him on his injured side, sending the dwarf to a knee in pain. Alfrid did not make it far, however, before an arrow through the heart took him down permanently. 

Kili lowered his bow and looked to Thorin, but the king only nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. “Go help your brother.”

Kili helped Fili to his feet with Ori and Bofur while Dwalin and Dain examined Alfrid to make sure he was truly dead and then brought his body into the tent. 

“It was sufficient, I suppose.” Thranduil sniffed. “Come Legolas, our business here is concluded.”

Bilberry watched as Legolas looked to Tauriel, but the red-haired elf shook her head minutely and said something in elvish. Legolas frowned and looked decidedly unhappy, sending his father a dark look, before turning to Tauriel again and responding in the elven tongue again. 

“Legolas!” Thranduil called, not even looking at the exchange.

Bilberry was burning with curiosity. What had happened that Tauriel had fallen out of favor with Thranduil? From what she’d seen in the palace, Tauriel was a loyal captain of the guard.

“She was banished,” Kili told Bilberry quietly. If he had not been standing next to her, she would not have heard him. “For disobeying Thranduil’s orders and following the orcs once they’d left the forest.”

It seemed such a small infraction to be banished for, and it had saved lives! Tauriel and Legolas had warned them of the second army from Gundabad because they’d disobeyed orders. Banishment from her people was definitely extreme, and Bilberry hated to see someone like Tauriel handed such a raw deal. She’d saved her life! Kili’s life too, in Laketown. She was a good person who cared about others beyond her kin. That, Bilberry realized, was probably the real crime to Thranduil.

Well. His loss… 

“Thorin,” Bilberry whispered sweetly, “I’ve just had a thought.”

Thorin peered down at her suspiciously. She looked pointedly to Tauriel and Thorin caught on to what she wanted quickly; he’d heard Kili’s comment as well. He sighed heavily, but didn’t argue with her.

“Tauriel Bolg-Slayer,” Thorin made sure to speak loud enough for Thranduil to hear, “as reward for your great deeds for me and my people, I offer you a home within Erebor, should you wish it. You will have full rights and protections as a citizen under the mountain.”

Tauriel blinked surprised and looked fleetingly to Kili, but caught herself and focused on Thorin. Legolas and Thranduil were also looking at Thorin with expressions of shock, along with half the company. Bilberry smiled encouragingly at Tauriel though, silently willing her to accept. 

“My Lord is generous.” Tauriel knelt before him, and though her movement was easy, Bilberry could see the tension in her shoulders. “I accept.”

Thorin gestured for her to stand and then turned to Thranduil, “I trust this won’t be a problem.”

Thranduil’s cold eyes shifted between Thorin and Tauriel before he dismissed them blandly. “It is no concern of mine,” he said and walked away.

Tauriel said one last thing to Legolas before the blonde elf nodded and followed after his father. 

As soon as Thranduil and Legolas were gone, the healer swooped in and forced Thorin back onto his cot. She muttered to herself in elvish the entire time, but Bilberry felt she understood the general sense of it. She felt quite the same way about stubborn dwarves doing far too much too soon and ignoring their injuries. Thorin might have protested the coddling, but Bilberry gave him a stern look and he settled down. Bilberry told Fili and Kili to sit as well and wait for their turn, but Oin and Tauriel offered to help with their needs while the elven healer, Imaya, tended to Thorin.

Bilberry made sure all three sons of Durin were going to be fine before she excused herself momentarily from the tent. She wanted to find each member of the company and talk to them, reassure herself that they really were alright. They were eager to confirm the same of her after everything that happened, and hadn’t wandered far from the healer’s tent. Dain, Gandalf, and Bard were also nearby and she stopped to speak with each of them.

“Mistress Baggins,” Bard nodded politely.

“Bard, outside of formal meetings, I believe it would be alright if you just called me Bilberry.” She offered. 

“As you wish,” he agreed. 

“Your family is well?”

He nodded. “Shaken, but unharmed. How fares the king?”

“The healer says he will make a full recovery if he doesn’t aggravate his condition.” Bilberry reported. “A few more days and we’ll be able to move him back to the mountain.”

“In the meantime, I suppose we will see much of you and your company.” Bard said. 

Bilberry demurred. “That won’t be a problem, I hope?”

“Not at all.” He promised.

“Master Bard,” Gandalf walked up with a smile, “if I may, I would like to borrow Bilberry for a moment.”

“Of course,” Bard said, “excuse me.”

The Man left with a polite nod to both of them. Gandalf then turned to her and raised one judgemental eyebrow. “So… I see you failed entirely to follow instructions.”

Bilberry crossed her arms and frowned. “Asking the dwarves to wait to enter the mountain was foolish. We were on a deadline.”

“Had I not been delayed, I would have been there as I’d planned. I suppose I cannot fault them for doing what needed to be done.” Gandalf allowed with a sigh. “But that was not what I meant.”

“Yes. Well.” Bilberry smoothed the front of her waistcoat absently. “Your advice was a little late, unfortunately.”

Gandalf chuckled. “Still, it seems to have turned out for the best. Thorin has resisted the lure of the gold remarkably well; far better than I expected.”

“You should have more faith in him.” Bilberry suggested.

“Until the Arkenstone is found, I would remain… cautious. That stone holds a perverse power over all who see it. I do not image its time spent with the dragon has lessened that either.”

Bilberry knit her brows in thought. She’d worried the same thing those first few days in the mountain, and Balin had seemed to agree that the Arkenstone was dangerous, but Thorin had seen it and given it back to her on Ravenhill. 

“What would you have done with it, if it were found?” She asked.

The wizard shook his head. “It is not if, my dear, but when. Objects of power do not remain lost forever, I’m afraid. The other dwarven kingdoms will demand it be found, for one reason or another, and I do not know if Thorin will be able to refuse, even if he wished to.”

“If it was found before the other kingdoms demanded to see it… if we had time to do something with it…” Bilberry tried to keep her voice entirely neutral, but she liked the Arkenstone less and less with each passing minute. “What would you suggest then?”

Gandalf eyed her suspiciously. “Hypothetically?”

“Entirely.” She lied.

“I would destroy it, if it could be done.” Gandalf advised. “Though, I doubt your king would agree.”

“Faith, Gandalf.” She chided. “I have found Thorin and the others worthy of much more credit than you give them.”

“Perhaps I should.” Gandalf conceded quietly. “I assume, given the circumstances, you will not be returning to the Shire?”

“No,” she agreed, “but then, you did warn me that might happen.”

“So I did.” He smiled. 

“How long will you be staying?”

“Not long I’m afraid.” Gandalf confessed. “There is much still to do elsewhere, but I will try to make it back for the wedding at least.”

“I hear it will be quite the party; would be a shame if you missed it.” 

“I will do all in my power to attend.” He promised.

Gandalf bid her farewell and left her at the healer’s tent. Bilberry went inside to find all three dwarves asleep and Tauriel watching them protectively. She smiled at the elf and joined her at the small table. 

“I’m pleased you agreed to stay in Erebor, Tauriel. I know it could not have been easy.”

“It was not, but I couldn’t return to the forest. Even if the banishment was rescinded, I do not know if I would go back.” Tauriel told her. 

“I could never go back to the Shire after all this.” Bilberry confided. “Even if Thorin and I had never courted, I would have asked to stay.”

“Without his love, you would have left your people behind?” Tauriel asked, genuinely curious. “For dwarves you have not known but a few months?”

“I know dwarves can be obstinate, pig-headed, and difficult. They’re suspicious and secretive, with _the worst_ manners you can possibly imagine,” she smiled, “but they are also brave, and kind, and loyal to a fault. I have grown very fond of them.” 

Tauriel smiled in return. “You speak very well of them; that they have your loyalty speaks well of them as well.”

“Tauriel…” Bilberry glanced at the sleeping Kili before turning back to the elf, “if my opinion on the subject means anything to you, there is no greater honor than being given the love of a dwarf, and nothing so valuable, for they love with all that they are and only once.”

“It means more than you may think.” Tauriel said, eyes on Kili, affectionate smile on her face.


	18. Adjustments

With all the talk of the Shire, Bilberry made a point to ask Thorin about some things that had been in the back of her mind for a while. The next day when he was awake and the boys rested still, she asked, “Have you sent for the dwarves from Erid Luin?”

“Word may reach them of the dragon’s demise soon; I should send a raven to Dis before too long.” Thorin grimaced. “She will be displeased I did not write immediately.”

“I think given circumstances, she will forgive you.” Bilberry patted his shoulder comfortingly before continuing. “Might I request something of the caravan coming east?”

“You wish for word be sent your family in the Shire.” Thorin guessed.

“Yes, but… I would also like to request for my cousin Drogo, and friend, Primula, to accompany the caravan east if they would be willing. I want them here for the wedding, although, I understand if they would rather not travel so far.”

“Your invitations will be delivered, of course.” Thorin vowed.

“I also want Hamfast’s opinion on the best way to restore the land around Dale. My own knowledge of gardening seems to be more than most around here, but there is a reason I hired Hamfast to care for the garden at Bag End. He is absolutely the finest gardner the Shire’s ever produced, and I feel we would benefit from his expertise.” Bilberry added quickly.

Thorin smiled fondly. “Anything else?”

Bilberry hesitated, but eventually said, “There may also be one or two things in Bag End I’d like brought here. If possible.”

“Write your letters, Sanâzyung. They will be delivered and your property retrieved.”

She leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you. I would have gone myself, but…”

“I would prefer you not to travel across Middle Earth while you are with child.” Thorin agreed.

Bilberry had a runner bring her parchment, ink, and a quill so that she could start on her letters. She also offered to pen a dictated letter for Thorin since he wasn’t supposed to put too much strain on his ribs. Sitting hunched over a desk absolutely counted, in her opinion, and Thorin was more than willing to let her take some paperwork off his hands. The parchment came with lunch, so Thorin ate while she wrote her personal letters first.

_Grandfather,_

_I hope this letter finds you well and that the dwarf delivering it did not startle you too much. I am writing to let you know that I have decided to stay with my new friends in Erebor. The mountain lies far to the east, but it is my hope that one day you may see it, for it is truly spectacular, as are its people. I have, without reservation, fallen in love with one dwarf in particular. He and I are to be wed as soon as the caravan from Ered Luin arrives with the rest of his people. His name is Thorin, and he is a great man. Mother would have liked him._

_As I am not returning to Bag End, I wish for the deed to pass to cousin Drogo. Do not let Lobelia try to take it or anything within! My wishes have been left with you before in the event that I do not return from one of my trips to Bree, and while I am not dead, neither am I returning, and I would like my wishes honored._

_I do hope to visit, but it will not be soon. Circumstances unfortunately prevent me from traveling for quite some time. I am well, do not worry, but I cannot leave until things are settled here. As it turns out, there is more involved in reclaiming a mountain than simply slaying a dragon (O, the tale this adventure has been Grandfather!) and I have much to do._

_I will see about having a raven learn to carry letters to the Shire so we may keep in touch, but until then, wish me luck! And know that I love you all._

_Sincerely,_  
_Bilberry Baggins_

_Dearest Primula and Drogo,_

_If this letter finds you separately, I will be much surprised._

_I have so much to tell you, but I will start with the most important, which is that I will not be returning to the Shire. I have decided to stay in Erebor to be with Thorin, my husband-to-be. Yes, you read that correctly, I am getting married! It would gladden my heart if you could make it to the wedding. The dwarves headed to Erebor from the Blue Mountains have agreed to take you with them if you choose to come. I understand of course if you would prefer not to travel so far. The trip to Erebor is no walking holiday after all._

_Regardless, as I will no longer have need of it, I am leaving Bag End and all my estate to Drogo. I have already informed the Thain of this and the transfer should go smoothly. Most of my belongings and furniture will stay with the house, I am sending for only a few things to join me in Erebor. The rest of it is yours. Keep Lobelia away from my silver._

_While you do not have to, I would ask that you keep Hamfast on as gardener. He has been loyal and Bag End’s gardens have always flourished under his care._

_I love you both dearly and hope to see you in Erebor!_  
_Bilberry_

_Dear Hamfast,_

_Thank you for your unwavering service to me and to Bag End, but I have chosen to remain with the dwarves in Erebor and my intended; Bag End will go to Drogo. Some of my personal effects will be shipped to me, so do not fear if you see dwarves remove a few things from my house. If you see Lobelia, stop her._

_It has come to my attention that the land around Erebor that both the dwarves and men rely on to grow their food has been desolate for decades due to dragonfire. I inspected the earth and I believe it can be revitalized, but I am no expert. I would greatly appreciate any advice or books you have on the subject of rehabilitating land for new growth. I fear the future prosperity of the region will rely on my ability to make the land healthy again._

_You are by far the best gardener in the whole of the Shire, and Bag End has always looked beautiful. I do not have even one half of your skill, but with your advice I hope it will be enough. Wish me luck!_

_Fondest regards,_  
_Bilberry Baggins_

Once her letters were done, she ate while she gave her hand a rest. It was hardly the most she’d ever written in one go, but it was the most in a while. When she was ready, she turned to Thorin, who was watching her with a soft smile.

“What?” She asked.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so focused on a task. You didn’t even notice when Fili and Kili woke up.”

Bilberry turned, and, sure enough, both boys were awake and watching her as well. They waved when she looked at them and she waved back sheepishly.

“Who are you writing to?” Fili asked.

“Some people in the Shire. Needed to let them know I won’t be returning.” Bilberry answered.

Both Fili and Kili smiled brightly at that. “You’re really staying?”

“Of course I am.” She gave them an incredulous look. “You’ve known this for a while now.”

“You’ve said, sure, but it’s another thing entirely to write your relations back in the Shire.” Kili told her.

“Makes it official.” Fili added.

“I see. Well, I am about to write a letter to your mother officially telling her the mountain is reclaimed. Is there anything you two would like to add?”

The ensuing onslaught of requests sparked a debate between the three dwarrow as to what specifically to include in the letter. Fili and Kili wanted to tell Dis about their part in the battle with the orcs, but Thorin refused. Thorin threatened to tell her about the situation with the trolls, but the boys begged him not to. All three of them balked at the suggestion of telling her about their trip down the river. Ultimately, Bilberry tuned them out and wrote the letter herself.

_Lady Dis,_

_It was my intent to simply write a dictated letter from Thorin while he recovers from his injuries, however, he and Fili and Kili cannot seem to settle on what they wish to say, so allow me._

_First and foremost, the mountain has been reclaimed. Smaug lies dead at the bottom of the lake and Erebor is once again yours. Thorin requests that all necessary preparations be made and that you and the dwarves of Ered Luin willing to leave, make your way to the Lonely Mountain._

_No one in the company was harmed during the confrontation with the dragon, however, an army of orcs assaulted the mountain less than two weeks into its recovery. With assistance from allies in the area, we were able to defeat the orcs. In that battle, Thorin and your sons were injured, but they are all recovering and should suffer no permanent damage._

_With those most pressing matters settled, allow me to introduce myself. I am Bilberry Baggins, hobbit of the Shire, fourteenth member of the company, hired at the recommendation of Gandalf the Grey to act as burglar for the quest. I am not a burglar by trade, understand, but a writer. Gandalf insisted I would do fine, however, and I wanted to help. Certainly I am glad that I agreed to come for, in addition to the interesting adventures this quest has presented, it also brought me to Thorin._

_Your brother and I are to be wed. Hopefully that news is met with as much good cheer as the company expressed, for I am most nervous to meet you. Your family has spoken of you a great deal and I do hope you are not unbearably disappointed in me as a wife for your brother. Family means a lot to Thorin and to myself and it is my hope that you and I will be friends if not sisters._

_They’ve noticed I’m writing without them. Beginning dictation:_

_Namad (he knows I do not speak or write Khuzdul, yet he insists),_

_As Bilberry has explained, the mountain is ours. Reconstruction will take years, but Erebor will be the jewel of the east again. Dale, too, is reclaimed and the Men are led by Girion’s descendant, Bard the Dragon-Slayer. He is honorable and has shown a willingness to work with us, not for gold, but for his people. Though I believe he cares to deal with Bilberry far more than myself. ~~That treesh~~_

“Thorin, I am not writing that.” Bilberry admonished. “Even if he is a ponce.”

_Thranduil also seems willing to negotiate with her, which is fortunate as it means I do not have to (and he would likely speak his mind and ruin all attempts of diplomacy). In this, and many other things, she has been invaluable._

_For her service, and likely because I do not believe I could deny her anything, I ask that you have someone deliver her letters to the Shire and acquire the listed items from her house in Hobbiton as she will not be able to travel there herself for a long while. In addition, she has asked a few friends and relations to come to Erebor for the wedding. If they agree, please escort them with the caravan._

_Your sons are healing well from the battle, as am I. They were very brave and did our ancestors proud. I am proud of them as well, and I’m sure they will regale you of the whole adventure upon your arrival._

_May Durin grant you safe travels,_  
_Your brother,_  
_Thorin_  
      _As dictated by Bilberry Baggins, Esq._

Bilberry slipped the list of items she wanted from Bag End in with everything as well as instructions for delivery of her personal letters. When that was done, she sent a runner for a raven so Thorin could send it all off to Dis.

Kili was the first to be released from the healer’s care, only a few days later. He was told to keep the daring heroics to a minimum for the next couple of weeks, but he was allowed out of the tent. On her occasional trips outside, Bilberry almost always saw him with Tauriel. She let them be, pleased to see the two of them happy.

Fili was released a week after his brother. He, too, was told to take it easy and not aggravate his healing bones. The dwarf gave his customary smirk and promised to behave. Bilberry didn’t buy it any more than the healer, but neither of them stopped him from sauntering out of the tent in search of trouble.

Thorin was allowed out of bed two days later. All internal damage seemed mended thanks to elven healing magic and dwarven sturdiness, and he was all too happy to be free and headed back to the mountain. Bilberry told him that his ribs were probably still fragile, but Thorin reminded her what he been capable of the last time he’d damaged his ribs. Recalling that night at Beorn’s made her blush, but didn’t dissuade her. She instructed him he wasn’t to help with the heavy lifting for at least a week.

Dain agreed with her, though for a different reason entirely. The dwarf lord was adamant that between the company and his own men, they had reconstruction well in hand, and Thorin needed to organize rather than do the manual labor the others were doing. Thorin accused him of just wanting to be free of the paperwork. Dain didn’t contradict him.

One night, a week after his release from the healer’s tent, while they were in their room getting ready to sleep, Thorin asked, “Do you still have it?”

Bilberry quirked an eyebrow at him, confused for a moment before guessing, “The Arkenstone?” At his nod, she said, “It’s still in my coat.”

“May I see it?”

Bilberry was more confused. He hadn’t mentioned the thing once since giving it back to her on Ravenhill, and he certainly wasn’t acting goldmad. He hadn’t been to the treasury since returning to the mountain either. Bilberry looked him in the eye and Thorin met her gaze steadily.

“I’m not sick.” He said softly. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” She said instantly, instinctively, and it was the truth. Thorin had shown no evidence of relapse. Slowly, she withdrew the stone from her coat pocket and passed it to him.

The light of the Arkenstone was brilliant, catching and reflecting the firelight in addition to its unique glow, but it seemed… less somehow. Beautiful, but there was something different about it and she couldn’t put her finger on what.

“It’s cracked.” Thorin smiled. “I suppose the Pale Orc’s head was particularly hard.”

“I’m sorry.” She apologized, unsure what else to say. She’d damaged a relic of his people, but he didn’t appear upset by that fact.

He put the Arkenstone in his own coat pocket and placed his hands on her head, pulling her forward to kiss her forehead, her eyes, her lips. “Do not be sorry. I am not. That it is cracked is a good thing.”

“Why?”

He kissed her again. “I have to tell the lords something when they ask about the Arkenstone. Now I can tell them it was damaged when I found it and it won’t be a lie.”

Bilberry smiled. “Because you didn’t find it until after I hit Azog. Lying without lying. How manipulative of you.”

“An unfortunate talent I’ve had to pick up working with the more conservative traditionalists.” Thorin agreed. “You will too, more than likely.”

“Honored lords, when Thorin showed me the damaged Arkenstone, I was shocked.” She claimed sincerely. “I had no idea such a thing could even be damaged.”

He chuckled. “I believe you’ll do just fine.”

“Always trust a storyteller to tell you the truth; never trust that it is the whole truth.” Bilberry cautioned with a grin.

To be safe, Bilberry did keep a careful eye on Thorin after he had the stone, but she saw no sign of the dragon sickness, no darkness in his eyes, and she relaxed. Perhaps damaged, the stone didn’t have the same lure it did before, or maybe Thorin was well and truly free of the curse of his line. Either way, Bilberry was relieved. She didn’t know what he’d done with it as it never made an appearance once she’d given it to him, but since it didn’t seem to be a threat any longer, she allowed her thoughts on the stone to dwindle.

A raven arrived with the replies to Bilberry’s letters, including one from Dis to Thorin. They went through them in the office they’d cleaned out in the royal wing when it became obvious paperwork was going to be a fact of life.

She opened Hamfast’s first. She hoped it came with a lot of advice, or a promise of books with the caravan. It held neither.

_Mistress Bilberry,_

_It has always been a great honor to serve your family, and Master Drogo has agreed to keep me on as gardener at your suggestion. However, your request for advice and books is unfortunately impossible. Without seeing the site for myself I would not trust that what I suggested would be best for the land. The young dwarf who delivered your letter said that their caravan is headed to Erebor and that they’ve agreed to take those hobbits that wish to come along, so I will be traveling with them to see the desolation for myself. Together we will see what can be done._

_Always at your service,_  
_Hamfast Gamgee_

That was certainly unexpected, but very welcome. Next was the letter from Prim and Drogo. It was… very short.

_Bilberry,_

_You’re absolutely mad!_

_See you soon,_  
_Prim and Drogo_

Last was the letter from her grandfather. She wasn’t sure what he would say to her news; he could be frustratingly difficult to read at times.

_Dear Bilberry,_

_Of course I am coming for your wedding. You are my favorite grandchild (don’t tell the others) and I would not miss this momentous event in your life for all the pipe weed in the Shire._

_The nice young dwarf who delivered your letter was kind enough to tell me about this quest you went on, and I’d wonder if you’d lost your sense, but it sounds exactly like the sort of adventure your mother would have loved. You remind me of her more and more, and I don’t believe I’ve ever told you how proud I am._

_Your estate has been seen to as you requested. Do not worry about Bag End; Drogo will care for it the way your parents did._

_See you soon,_  
_Gerontius Took_

“Oh, bother.” Bilberry wiped the tears from the corner of her eye, setting the letter aside.

“What’s wrong?” Thorin asked.

“Nothing. Just, I’ll have more people at the wedding than I expected.” She said with a smile. “Grandfather decided to come, so I do apologize for that. He will probably try to test your worthiness.”

Thorin chuckled and held up his own letter. “Dis mentioned that. She also wishes to apologize to you. Apparently she wasn’t aware you hadn’t told anyone you were engaged to a king.”

“Yes, well.” Bilberry huffed. “That hardly seemed the most important detail.”

“One might argue that.”

“One would be wrong.” She stated. “You’re a kind, decent, loyal, brave dwarf and I love you. That you’re a king has never affected how I feel for you.”

In response, Thorin swept her up out of her seat, tossed her over his shoulder, and carried her to their bedroom.

As the days went by, Bilberry tried to find things to do to occupy her abundant free time. Thorin no longer needed to dictate his letters or notes to her, though he did enjoy her company while he slogged through paperwork. Some of her time went to helping Ori and Balin with the library--which was as grand as Ori had promised back in Rivendell--but she couldn’t do much more than clean as she wasn’t strong enough to move the stone shelves and couldn’t read Khuzdul to help with the sorting. Dwalin and Nori started her training up again in the mornings before breakfast, but not as intensively as it had been on the road. She suspected her growing stomach had something to do with it.

The others were usually too busy with reconstruction to entertain her, and Gandalf had departed long ago, so she decided to do what she could for Dale’s farmers. With Hamfast on his way with the caravan, she didn’t have much that wasn’t basic information or showing them the healthiest portion of earth to begin planting come spring, but she enjoyed the sunlight and made time to go to Dale even if only for the excuse to walk. Thorin insisted she not go alone on these trips outside, and she relented only when he agreed to let Tauriel be her guard rather than Dwalin. The elf was just as burdened with free time as Bilberry, and Dwalin was busy with reconstruction and organizing a King’s Guard. She took advantage of the opportunity and got to know Tauriel quite well as they talked on their walks outside.

Some days when Bilberry stayed in the mountain, she’d help with the search for Thranduil’s jewels and made sure those assigned to the same stayed on task. She’d promised all reasonable effort would be made to find those gems, after all. Other days she would spend with Thorin and occasionally Dain, or Fili and Kili, or Balin--sometimes all of them at once--as they talked about almost anything.

When the markets of Dale opened, Bilberry made sure to go. Tauriel and the princes came with her and they spent hours browsing at the various stalls. Some of the coin to help the people of Dale had clearly gone to their supply of wares for the market and Bilberry was ecstatic to see the beginnings of an outstanding hub for trade.

She purchased several lengths of various fabrics; she’d need a flexible wardrobe soon. Already her pants were snug and she didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to wear them. For simplicity's sake, she’d probably have to start wearing skirts and dresses, but first she’d have to have them made. Dori had volunteered to help, and she’d gratefully taken him up on the offer. Her own skill with sewing was passable, but the dwarf was a master and would be able to do much more much faster than she would. In addition to the needs of her own wardrobe, Bilberry made sure that Tauriel received several new garments and supplies for more while they were in the market. Tauriel had very little of her own possessions, but Bilberry intended to change that now that there was trade again.

Dori helped Bilberry with a new wardrobe to accommodate her expanding figure, and as she suspected, much of her new clothes were skirts and dresses. She had Dori outfit each of them with pockets as a compromise. As she filled her wardrobe with her new clothes, Thorin made a thoughtful noise behind her. She turned to see him looking at the fine chain of Mithril upon the armor stand in their room and realized that the finest armor in Middle Earth couldn’t stretch to fit around her while she was pregnant.

She wondered, “What do your dwarrowdam do when their armor no longer fits?”

“It is rare that a dam will do anything that requires armor to be worn once far enough along that it would be an issue.”

They both knew that wasn’t an option for her, though. Even though they were not at war, Thorin had asked her to continue to wear the mithril under her clothes to protect her while she went about her day, especially in Dale. Even in Erebor she’d worn the armor just in case one of Dain’s men didn’t take well to the presence of hobbit or thought to use her against Thorin. Dain was honorable, and no dwarf had yet given them reason to doubt; it was just an unfortunate truth of being a part of the royal family.

“I will not be confined to our rooms.” Bilberry warned him.

Thorin shook his head. “I would not ask that of you.”

“I assume it can’t be modified.” Bilberry ran her fingers along the fine chain.

“No,” he agreed, “but I’ve another idea, and I ask you to consider it.”

“Alright.”

“I wish to establish a Queen’s Guard. A small contingent of warriors assigned to protect you and the baby as you go about your day.” Thorin proposed.

Bilberry frowned; she didn’t like the idea of a bunch of warriors getting in her way as she tried to work the fields of Dale or stroll in the markets.

“Do not glower,” Thorin took her hands in his and kissed her palms. “You cannot go unprotected; a personal guard is prudent.”

“I’m not sure I would be comfortable being constantly watched by people I do not know.” She admitted.

Thorin smiled. “Which is why you will be the one to select who is assigned. Dwalin will provide a list of candidates, but you will have final say.”

“Tauriel.” Bilberry said at once. “And if there is to be a captain of this Queen’s Guard, I would have it be her.”

“Very well.” Thorin agreed unenthusiastically. “You will need more than just the elf, however.”

“You should really call her by her name.” Bilberry suggested.

“I have shown her nothing but respect while in her presence.”

Bilberry gave him an unimpressed look. “And while in Kili’s presence?”

“Kili--?” Thorin made a sour face. “Tell me you do not mean…”

“I do mean, and I am quite pleased with the match.”

“She is an elf.”

“Kili and Tauriel are in love, Thorin. Would you deny your nephew his One simply because she is of another race?”

He frowned and crossed his arms. “It is not the same.”

“It is not so very different either.” She told him gently. “Tauriel Bolg-Slayer saved my life, saved Kili’s in Laketown, and helped get all four of them out of the city while the dragon attacked. She has done more for your family than most dwarves.”

He sat heavily on the chair by the fire and contemplated the situation. “You are certain of their affections?”

“I have no doubt.” Bilberry confirmed. “Will you allow their courtship?”

Thorin sighed. “I will not stop it.”

She sat on his lap and kissed him fondly. “You should let Kili know.”

“Aye,” he pulled her closer and kissed a line up her neck, “but not right this moment, I think.”


	19. Family Reunion

So life continued in Erebor while they awaited the arrival of the caravan. The mountain slowly began to look less and less like a dragon had occupied it for several decades thanks to the continuous work of Dain’s men and the company, though there was still plenty of work left, and Dale, too, began to see improvement, but not as much or as quickly. As the deadline approached, and it was determined that the other sections could afford a month or so of inattention, Thorin ordered more focus on the living areas of the mountain to prepare for the arriving throngs. All workers were taken from the other sections and moved to join those already working on housing, but it was going to be close as to whether or not they’d restore enough dwellings in time.

 

Bilberry had weekly check ups with Oin to monitor her progress, and she praised every higher power when her morning sickness finally abated. When she felt the baby kick for the first time, she was practicing her swordplay with Fili and Kili while they waited for Thorin join them for dinner. The king had walked in to see both his nephews kneeling in front of her with their hands on her stomach while she gave them a very put upon expression, and had laughed before pulling them away and taking their place. 

 

By time she was visibly pregnant no matter what she wore, Nori had started a betting pool in regard to the baby’s gender. There were long odds on it being a girl but fully half of the company put coin on it. The other half didn’t bet at all. She thought it was pointless to bet when each member of the company was independently wealthy from their share of the treasure, but they claimed it was tradition and enough of Dain’s men placed bets that she couldn’t really argue. Tauriel offered to tell her. Apparently elves had a way to know, but Kili protested that that would be cheating. Bilberry didn’t mind waiting, so, at the behest of the betting dwarrow, she declined.

 

In the last month of waiting for the caravan, the company began to shower her and Thorin with gifts for the baby. Dori made clothes of fine and sturdy cloth both, Ori knitted a lovely blanket, the Ur family cobbled together a frankly ridiculous number of toys, Dwalin made a wee sword and shield of wood, and Fili and Kili crafted a beautiful mobil of precious gems and metal all shaped like insects and flowers. Thorin spent a truly impressive amount of time in the forges working on something. When she’d ask, he’d say it was a surprise. Nori told her that he believed Thorin was working on two projects, though he would give no other details.

 

Bilberry was Very Pregnant when the caravan finally arrived from Ered Luin, and she was excruciatingly nervous. Not only would she be meeting Dis for the first time, but her friends and family were going to see that she was with child  _ before _ the wedding. It just wasn’t the done thing in the Shire, and she didn’t want them to be disappointed or ashamed of her or the baby. And if that wasn’t enough, she’d also be making her first impression as future queen to all the dwarves of the Blue Mountains while eight months pregnant. 

 

At least the gown she was wearing was lovely. Dori had outdone himself with this one. Deep Durin blue overdress embroidered with silver bilberries along the hems on top of a black dress of crushed velvet. The empire waist did nothing but accentuate the fact that she was pregnant, but all together she felt beautiful. Unlike most of her other dresses, it didn’t have any pockets, but she kept the ring close on a chain around her neck. Thorin had braided additional braids into her hair that morning. He said they were Master braids to represent her skill as a writer and storyteller, and the fact that her books had been found  _ everywhere _ on the journey meant she’d more than earned the rank. The beads he used in the new braids had belonged to Frerin; his brother had always loved a good story, Thorin explained as he threaded the beads into her hair, and he thought Frerin would approve.

 

Fili and Kili were practically bouncing as they waited for the caravan to make its final approach. Gloin, too, was nervously stroking his beard as he waited for his wife and son to arrive. Every member of the company was at the front gate, an honored party to greet the newcomers. Secretly, Bilberry thought Thorin just wanted to rub it in their faces that  _ these few _ were the ones that were brave enough to follow him to Erebor while the others waited until it was safe. The only person at the gate not of the company was Tauriel, who was there acting as Captain of the Queen’s Guard.

 

“Oof.” Bilberry groaned as the waiting continued. The baby was apparently excited too for it would not stop moving around, kicking her occasionally for emphasis.

 

“Are you well?” Thorin asked, worry creasing his face.

 

“Yes, yes. Your child will not sit still.” She explained, exasperated. 

 

“She’s just ready to meet her Uncle Bofur, isn’t she?” Bofur cooed. The miner had finally been able to get away from work more frequently, so he and Bilberry had taken to having elevensies together while Thorin met with various people about the state of repairs.

 

“Well, it’s another two months minimum, probably closer to three before that happens.” Bilberry told her stomach firmly. She wanted no complications even if that meant the babe took a little longer to grow than a normal fauntling would.

 

“He’s reacting to your stress,” Thorin kissed her hand, “relax and so will the babe.”

 

Bilberry sighed, “Easier said than done.”

 

“Why are you so stressed, Amadnam?” Kili asked. “Aren’t you happy to see your fellow hobbits again?”

 

She huffed. “Yes. And terrified. Grandfather is… hard to predict. I’ve no idea how he’ll react to  _ this _ .” She ran a hand over her belly. “At least I know Prim and Drogo will be happy for me.”

 

“What is the King of the Shire like?” Fili wondered. 

 

“Never met one.” Bilberry flicked him on the ear. “The  _ Thain _ is an old, crotchety hobbit with a wicked sense of humor, a sharp tongue, and a fondness for tobacco to rival Gandalf’s.”

 

“How many relatives were you expecting?” Tauriel asked quietly, squinting into the distance at the caravan just passing Dale.

 

“Grandfather and my cousins Drogo and Primula, though Hamfast will be here too.” Bilberry sighed and then frowned, suspicious. “Why?”

 

“Perhaps I am mistaken, then. Are there many young dwarves in the caravan?”

 

“I imagine there will be.” Thorin replied. “Though a I doubt the two could be mistaken for the other.”

 

“Check the feet.” Bofur suggested with a smirk. 

 

Tauriel was silent for a moment and all the dwarves and one hobbit waited while the elf assessed the oncoming caravan. Finally, she declared, “Definitely hobbits.”

 

Bilberry groaned. “How many?”

 

“Many.” Tauriel stated.

 

She clutched the ring around her neck and considered slipping it on and running--waddling--away, but Thorin’s gentle hand at her lower back steadied her enough that she remembered such tactics were pointless. They would have to see her eventually. Instead, she took a deep breath and another, until she felt less like fainting. 

 

“All will be well, Agyâdê.” Thorin told her. “Your kin will be happy for you.”

 

Bilberry squared her shoulders and forced herself to calm down. There was a chance that no one would react poorly, after all, since it wasn’t a scandal in dwarven society, and it wasn’t like anyone back in the Shire had to know the particulars. So long as no one had brought Lobelia, she could tell herself that Thorin was right. 

 

The caravan finally came to the gates and a dwarrowdam that looked too much like Thorin to be anyone other than Dis rode forward on her ram as the rest of the caravan came to a halt. She had the same coal black hair and blue eyes that her brother did, the same straight nose and high cheekbones. Her hair and beard were braided immaculately, decorated with fine beads of silver. Bilberry was instantly intimidated by the critically assessing gaze that reminded her so keenly of that night in Bag End when Thorin had accused her of being a grocer. 

 

“Nadad,” Dis greeted Thorin, “I see you managed not to get yourself killed. Good. Where are my sons?”

 

Fili and Kili jumped forward and waved frantically to their mother, calling to her in rapid-fire khuzdul. Tauriel gently pulled Bilberry out of the way of their jostling so she didn’t bump up against the battlement. Bilberry gave her a grateful smile in thanks.

 

Dis replied to her sons in the dwarven tongue as well before speaking to Thorin in common once more. “Are you ready to welcome our people home, O King Under the Mountain?”

 

He nodded and smiled to his sister before addressing the gathered dwarrow. His voice rang out over the caravan, pitched to carry over a field of battle, he greeted his people in khuzdul to uproarious response. Below them, the gates to the city swung open and Dis rode in quickly, passed her ram to a waiting guard, and then made her way up to the battlements with the company while the other dwarves of the caravan poured into the city. There were dwarves assigned to intake, selected by Balin, that quickly took charge of the incoming horde. Balin excused himself to see to the hobbits personally as there were considerably more of them than had been expected.

 

“Namad,” Thorin hugged his sister, “it is good to see you. Your trip was not too difficult I hope?”

 

“It was uneventful.” She told him. 

 

Thorin grinned. “You sound disappointed.”

 

“Had your letter not mentioned the army of orcs and goblins, I would have been suspicious by how few we saw on our way here.”

 

“A combined force from Moria and Gundabad,” Thorin confirmed. “I am not surprised you encountered little resistance. The boredom wasn’t horrible, I hope?”

 

“Never said I was bored.” Dis smirked. “Hobbits are much more interesting than I originally believed.”

 

“We are in agreement on that.” Thorin said.

 

She looked Bilberry over then and raised an eyebrow at her brother, “Evidently.”

 

“Dis…” Thorin frowned.

 

She smiled at him innocently and then turned to Bilberry again. “Allow me to introduce myself, as my brother has neglected to do so: I am Dis, daughter of Thrain, and I am delighted to make your acquaintance at last Bilberry Baggins.”

 

“Likewise, My Lady.” Bilberry accepted the hand the dwarf offered. 

 

“None of that; let us dispense with the formalities. We are to be family, after all.”

 

“Speaking of, I hope that mine did not cause you too much trouble.” Bilberry glanced warily down at the small army of hobbits that were gathered around Balin.

 

Dis shook her head, “The Old Took was particularly entertaining.”

 

“I’m sure.” She muttered. “Well, I suppose I should go say hello.”

 

“You do not look entirely pleased to see them.” Dis commented.

 

Bilberry sighed. “I didn’t expect quite so many, if I’m being completely honest. At least it looks like he limited it to aunts, uncles, and cousins.”

 

“And by that you mean third and fourth cousins, yes?” Kili asked. The company were now all looking at the hobbits as well. 

 

“No, thank Yavanna.” 

 

“Those are all first cousins?” Fili whispered to his brother, skeptical. 

 

Bilberry started down the stairs with Thorin’s help. He worried overmuch in her opinion, but dwarves also seemed to have some personal grudge against guardrails so she didn’t protest the assistance. Fili and Kili followed behind at Dis’ urging, but the others stayed up on the battlements. She touched Balin’s elbow to let him know she was there, and smiled at him in thanks as he stepped aside. 

 

“Grandfather,” Bilberry said warmly. She was happy to see him, despite her nerves. “It's wonderful to see you all, but who did you leave in charge?”

 

“Fortinbras is managing things.” Isumbras said proudly. 

 

Isumbras’ son, Fortinbras, was the oldest of her cousins, but still young to be passed the mantel of Thain even temporarily. Still, they wouldn't have left him if they didn't think he could do the job. Some of her other cousins were missing as well, so she supposed he had some support. 

 

The Old Took gave her an assessing look and then grinned. “Making up for lost time I see.”

 

She blushed. “Grandfather…”

 

Mirabella tutted. “Have you had a midwife look at you yet, Dear?”

 

“Oin is a healer, but no midwives were among the company.” Bilberry told her aunt, hugging her in greeting. 

 

“Well, I’m certainly glad we came along.” Mirabella said. “We’ll have a look at you once we’re settled, yes?”

 

“Of course, Auntie.”

 

“First things first, I think.” Her grandfather declared.

 

“Yes. My apologies.” Bilberry took a deep, calming breath, smoothed the fabric over her impressive stomach to try to calm the babe who was still fidgeting, and then looked to Thorin. “It’s my pleasure to introduce you all to my intended, Thorin Oakenshield. You've all met Lady Dis, his sister, and these are her sons Fili and Kili. Thorin, now, since grandfather decided to bring half the Took clan with him, there are quite a few of them, so be patient.”

 

He chuckled and nodded for her to continue but she heard Fili mutter to his brother “Half?” 

 

She ignored him and carried on.  “Gerontius Took, my grandfather and Thain of the Shire. Uncle Isengrim; Uncle Hildigard; Uncle Isumbras and his wife Poppy; Uncle Hildigrim, his wife--also an aunt on the Baggins side--Rosa, their son Adalgrim, his wife Alura; Uncle Isembold; Uncle Hildifons; Uncle Isembard, his wife Pervinca, and their son Flambard; Uncle Hildibrand, his wife Asphodel, and their son Sigismond; Aunt Donnamira and her husband Hugo; Aunt Mirabella, her husband Gorbadoc, and their daughter Primula; and Uncle Isengar. Then of course, there’s my cousin, Drogo Baggins, and… where’s Hamfast?”

 

“He’s looking at the ground around Dale.” Dis answered. 

 

“Well, I can’t fault him for that. Did he say when he would return?” Bilberry inquired.

 

“A while yet, I suspect.” Drogo shook his head. “He took one look at the area and…”

 

Bilberry understood. She’d hoped Hamfast could help; the land was in desperate need of a master gardener. Hamfast cared deeply about growing things, even by hobbit standards. It was just one of the reasons he was the best in the Shire. Bilberry was certain he was the right hobbit for the job.

 

“I’ll have to make my way out there to speak with him then.” She said.

 

“After.” Donnamira stated. “First we have a look at you.”

 

“Auntie, you’ve just traveled for months, it can wait--”

 

“Nonsense.” Primula dismissed her protests with a sunny smile and took her by the arm.

 

“But--” Bilberry hesitated.

 

“And bring the healer.” Mirabella ordered. “We’ll want to speak to him about what he’s already done.”

 

“Kili, go fetch Oin.” Dis ordered quietly. “Meanwhile, I think the rest of us would like to be seen to our rooms, yes?”

 

Thorin nodded. “Of course. If you will follow me, there is plenty of room in the royal guest quarters.”

 

Bilberry was ushered away by Mirabella, Donnamira, Prim, Tauriel, and Oin as he joined them from the battlements with Kili. The brothers looked torn as to which group to follow, but ultimately went with their mother after sending Bilberry apologetic smiles. She waved them off and followed her aunts obediently while Oin led the way to the healer’s wing.

 

“I didn’t expect to see an elf here after traveling with Lady Dis.” Donnamira commented idly. 

 

“Tauriel is Captain of the Queen’s Guard, a citizen of Erebor, and my friend.” Bilberry explained, smiling at the elf. “She saved my life a few months back.” 

 

“From the dragon?” Prim asked, bouncing in her excitement.

 

“Kidnapping.” Tauriel corrected. 

 

“ _ What?”  _ Mirabella sounded absolutely scandalized. 

 

Tauriel went through the story of Bilberry’s abduction, much to her chagrin. Her relatives were appalled--reasonably so--at Alfrid’s behavior, but thanked Tauriel for her part in the rescue. They also lauded Kili’s role.

 

“He seemed so sweet; I would never have expected.” Prim reflected. 

 

“He is sweet.” Tauriel said gently.

 

“He is also a warrior of the line of Durin,” Oin added, “and protecting his family.”

 

Bilberry squeezed her cousin’s hand and smiled. “The two are not mutually exclusive.”

 

“Of course. You should have seen Belladonna when someone commented on her and Bungo’s courtship.” Mirabella grinned at the memory. “She had a tongue sharp as any blade.”

 

“Why did your own fair king not come to your rescue?” Donnamira asked.

 

“Thorin was gravely injured from the battle with the orcs the day before.” Bilberry explained. “Though, if he had been conscious at the time, I do not believe that would have stopped him.”

 

Oin snickered at her exasperated tone.

 

Finally they reached the healers wing and Oin brought them into a large, private room where the three hobbit midwives immediately got down to business. Prim helped her out of the lovely dress until she was just in her slip, folding the garment neatly out of the way.

 

“That’s a bit of shiney at your neck.” Prim remarked. “Did your beau give it to you?”

 

“No.” Bilberry refrained from clutching the ring, hiding it from Prim, only managing by keeping her hands busy comforting the baby that had started to kick again. “I found it in the Misty Mountains.”

 

“Looks small enough to fit on your finger, why not wear it?”

 

A part of Bilberry instantly raged at the idea of talking any more about it, and the level of vehemence behind the thought frightened her. Where had that come from? She had a temper, sure, but the ring was trivial-- _ precious _ \--and Prim was only asking. She hadn’t told anyone about it, not even Thorin--because he’d  _ steal _ it--

 

“Bilberry?” Prim’s concerned tone snapped her out of her thoughts. Everyone was looking at her with worry. Only then did she notice that she’d crawled as far from the others as she could get and was clutching the ring hard enough to leave an imprint on her palm. 

 

Through effort, she uncurled herself from around the ring and frowned. In lieu of answer, and because she didn’t trust her own voice, she slipped the ring off its chain and onto her finger. In the greyness she saw everyone’s shock and worry. When Prim reached out and touched her legs, Bilberry removed the ring.

 

“Bless my beard…” Oin swore.

 

“That is no simple trinket.” Tauriel looked wary. “I did wonder how you managed to avoid detection. I suppose that answered that.”

 

Bilberry quickly put the ring back on the chain and settled it around her neck. “I can be quiet when I wish to be, but three weeks avoiding elven guards would be a challenge for even the best burglar.”

 

“Burglar?” Donnamira glared. “Bilberry Baggins--”

 

“Don’t be like that Auntie,” Bilberry pleaded, “the company needed someone who could move about quietly and didn’t smell like dwarf to get past the dragon. I wasn’t stealing anything.”

 

“That doesn’t make it better.” Donnamira muttered. “Whyever did they think to ask you?”

 

“Gandalf.”

 

Both her aunts rolled their eyes and made utterances of understanding while Prim wrinkled her nose in thought, “The old Man with the whizzpoppers?” 

 

“He’s a wizard Prim.” Bilberry chuckled. “The one that dragged my mother all about on her adventures.”

 

“He did have wonderful fireworks though.” Mirabella agreed.

 

Conversation switched back to her and the baby after that. Oin helpfully answered questions about dwarven pregnancy and Bilberry’s specifically while Donnamira--the most experienced of the three midwives--examined her.

 

“You’re sure of the time you conceived?” Mirabella wondered, “Only, you look nearly large enough to pop.”

 

“Mamma!” Prim scolded.

 

“She’s not wrong,” Donnamira assessed. “I’d guess the babe is already two and a half kilos.”

 

“We knew he’d be bigger.” Oin grunted. “Two and a half kilo is very small for a dwarfling.”

 

“The the babe is too much bigger, she may not be able to deliver.” Donnamira frowned.

 

“There was that Proudfoot boy--” Prim started.

 

“I delivered that boy.” Donnamira reminded her. “His mother very nearly died.”

 

“Auntie…” Bilberry tried not to worry, but she wasn’t hearing particularly good news.

 

“Calm.” Donnamira soothed. “You’re not going to die.”

 

“Not with us around.” Mirabella promised.

 

Donnamira and Mirabella ran her through question after question regarding the first trimester, especially when the learned the first month of her pregnancy was spent in near-constant starvation, sleep-deprivation, and wearing the ring. Tauriel was the one who asked if the effect of long-term wear had concerned Bilberry at all, and she reluctantly described the greyness and faded feel of the world of the ring.

 

“Have you worn it much since?” Tauriel asked.

 

“A few times. When necessary.” It was a struggle to talk about the ring, but she made herself do it for the sake of the child. “Never longer than an hour.”

 

“My advice would be to avoid using it altogether.” Tauriel counseled. “Magic like that should not be used lightly.”

 

“I haven’t needed to in months.” Bilberry told her.

 

Her aunts concluded their checkup, and Prim helped her back into her dress just in time for Thorin to find them.

 

“All is well?” He asked.

 

“Fit as a fiddle.” Mirabella promised.

 

“We’ll keep an eye on her while we’re here though. Just in case.” Donnamira decided.

 

Bilberry was relieved. Oin had been wonderful, but her aunts were the best midwives in the Shire, and were far more knowledgeable about what was and wasn’t good for a hobbit. She felt much better knowing they were taking care of her, and the weight of their possible disapproval lifted when she realized they didn’t think her shameful.

 

“Thank you.” Thorin bowed to them. “If we’re finished, it would be my honor to show you to your rooms.”

 

Thorin and Bilberry guided them to the royal guest wing where the rest of her family was already settled. Fili and Kili were holding court as they told the story of the quest for erebor, and Bilberry’s party arrived just in time to hear their retelling of their encounter with Azog just outside the goblin tunnels. Fili seemed to be portraying her while his brother lied on the ground behind him, because Fili and Kili never told a story unless they could reenact it as well.

 

“You cannot have him!” Fili shouted, voice pitched in a ridiculous falsetto, and swung his dagger--Bilberry was mildly offended he was mocking Sting’s size--at an invisible Azog. 

 

Dis caught her brother’s eye at this and Bilberry could see she was highly amused. Fili and Kili continued to describe the confrontation in exaggerated detail for their audience, though, so Dis directed her attention back to the show. Resigned, Bilberry and Thorin seated themselves to watch as well.

 

When the tale was done, the hobbits applauded and Dis hugged her boys, laughing at their ridiculousness. Bilberry’s younger relatives started asking questions, some of which Fili and Kili couldn’t answer because they didn’t have the details, so she was dragged into answering instead.

 

“How did you escape the spiders?”

 

“I didn’t at first, I had to cut my way out.”

 

“And the elves?”

 

“By being very, very careful.”

 

“Did you really fight a cave monster with  _ words _ ?”

 

“Gollum wasn’t really a monster; we had a lovely game of riddles.”

 

“Why did Smaug call you Barrel-Rider?”

 

“When Smaug found me, he wanted to know who I was. I gave him titles rather than my name, Barrel-Rider being the least impressive. Not my finest moment, I admit. He mocked me with that one several times.” She lamented.

 

“Why not tell him your name?”

 

“I had to stall, keep him interested in who I was so he wouldn’t immediately kill me.” Bilberry explained. “Not that he didn’t eventually try.”

 

“You must have been so frightened.”

 

“I was at first. Then mostly angry. Dragons are horribly rude, as it turns out.”

 

Her family laughed and the subject of Smaug was dropped for another, equally monumentally daunting one. Planning the wedding. Bilberry had held off on all preparations until the caravan arrived when she’d have help. Now that they were here, though, planning could truly begin. Almost at once, it became obvious that hobbit weddings and dwarven weddings were very similar in certain respects, and very different in others. Finding middle ground that was agreeable to both parties was a negotiation Bilberry happily left to her aunts and uncles and Dis. She didn’t particularly care whether it was a handfast or an exchange of vows, so long as she and Thorin were married by the end of it. The others actually seemed to enjoy the arguing, though, so she let them be.

 

Thorin seemed to be of the same mind as her and watched the proceedings with thinly veiled mirth. 

 

“Just you wait,” she whispered, “They’ll eventually put all that energy into testing you, remember?”

 

“I thought you were the head of your family?” Thorin asked.

 

“The Baggins side, absolutely. These are the Took’s though.”

 

“I look forward to it.” Thorin replied, wrapping his arms around her, settling her against his broad chest.

 

When it was time for lunch, Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur arrived with trays of food and drink and one dirt covered hobbit.

 

“Hamfast!” Bilberry smiled. “So glad you could join us.”

 

“Glad you asked for my help.” Hamfast sighed. “Those fields need a few seasons of intense care.”

 

Bilberry knew they would; it was one of the reasons she’d hoped Hamfast would give advice. “Thank you for coming in person, Hamfast.”

 

“You’re hardly in a state for gardening, are you.” He teased. “Congratulations, Mistress Bilberry.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Lunch was loud with the addition of the Ur family; Bofur in particular when he started up a song. Her uncles, never to be outdone, jumped at the chance to sing their favorite tunes as well. Bofur was thrilled. The meal devolved, a bit, into a show with those not singing taking the chance to eat before it was their turn again. When it was Bilberry’s turn, Fili and Kili requested the song she’d written for Thorin, so she obliged. The king added his harmony again which Bilberry loved, and she saw several of her Took relations smile brightly when they recognized Belladonna’s tune, and Dis wiped damp eyes at the end.

 

“That’s beautiful.” Dis said. “You wrote that?”

 

“The tune was my mother’s, but I crafted the words for my courting gift to Thorin.” Bilberry nodded.

 

“That’s so romantic.” Prim sighed wistfully.

 

“Aye.” Dis agreed. “I hope my brother’s First Gift was as good.”

 

Bilberry closed her mouth over the thanks she was about to give. She’d forgotten Thorin hadn’t given her his Gift yet. Unfortunately, Dis seemed to read her mind and glared at her brother.

 

“It took my some time to find the appropriate materials,” Thorin stated calmly. “I’ve nearly finished it.”

 

Dis narrowed her eyes at him and said something in Khuzdul; Thorin responded in kind. From the frowns of the various dwarves present, it wasn’t a friendly conversation. Bilberry lamented her lack of understanding of the language.

 

“My apologies, friends.” Dis smiled at the gathered hobbits. “If you would excuse me and my brother for a moment.”

 

The siblings left and Bilberry worried her lip, agitated. She didn’t want Dis to be upset with Thorin. He’d been  _ busy _ . First on the quest, then injured, then restoring the mountain. It wasn’t like he’d forgotten. Picking up on her mood, Fili and Kili plopped down on the couch next to her.

 

“Don’t worry, Amadnam.” Fili told her, smirk once again in its usual place. “They’ll sort it out.”

 

“There’s nothing to sort.” Bilberry objected.

 

“Technically…” Kili hedged, “he did this a bit out of order.”

 

Mirabella snorted. Bilberry glared.

 

“Dear, as happy as we are for you, the lad is right.” Donnamira said. “Your whole courtship has been done entirely out of order.”

 

“Yes, well.” Bilberry pouted. “We were on a quest to reclaim a kingdom from a dragon. I think we can be forgiven.”

 

Most of the gathered hobbits and dwarves laughed, amused. Bilberry just huffed and glared silently at the door Dis and Thorin had disappeared behind, tempted to butt her way into their conversation.

 

“Mom just likes to argue.” Kili explained.

 

“Uncle will be fine.” Fili promised.

 

“Are you sure they’re not twins?” Primula eyes the brothers. 

 

“Dwarves don’t have twins.” Bofur assured her. “But they’re  _ very _ close in age.”

 

“Only eight years apart.” Kili boasted. 

 

“Eight years?” Mirabella gasped. “I would have guessed three at most.”

 

Fili laughed. “No one has kids that frequently.”

 

“Fili…” Bilberry admonished. 

 

“Young man, hobbits can--and do--have children every year.” Donnamira corrected, amused. 

 

Both Fili and Kili look flabbergasted at Donnamira, then Bilberry, and then looked at each other before smiling. 

 

“So many Dwobbits!” Kili cheered.

 

“What’s this?” Dis asked as she and Thorin stepped inside.

 

“Dwobbit isn’t a word.” Bilberry chided, resigned. 

 

She was ignored.

 

“Amad, hobbits can have children  _ every year _ .” Fili explained. “Uncle, did you know this?”

 

His lips twitched in a grin. “It’s been mentioned.”

 

What he didn’t say was that she’d already had this conversation with him one night when it had been particularly difficult to get comfortable. Bilberry had stubbornly stated she wasn’t going to get pregnant again for at least a couple years, at which point she’d ranted that she was not going to be one of those wives that just continuously popped out babies, she had her limits! No more than six, she’d told him firmly. Of course Thorin had been ecstatic by the idea of six children, he hadn’t argued at all.

 

“It’s also been mentioned that it’s  _ not _ happening.” Bilberry reminded him.

 

Thorin kissed her forehead. “I remember. I will take my six children and be happy.”

 

“So many Dwobbits!” Kili repeated.

 

Bilberry rolled her eyes as her family laughed.

 

“Good thing you have your grandmother’s hips.” Mirabella teased.

 

“Hamfast,” Bilberry turned to her gardener, “sweet, sane Hamfast. Speak to me of Dale. I desire conversation that won’t make me contemplate murder.”

 

Hamfast chuckled but did as she bid. The topic was interesting enough to the hobbits for them to listen and important enough for the dwarves. Hamfast explained that Bilberry’s initial assessment was correct. There was fertile land under the desolation, but it would take time and care for the land to produce the quantities needed to support both Dale and Erebor. 

 

“Hobbit care, mind.” Hamfast clarified. “The Men and women of Dale assigned to the task range from Amature to Doesn’t Know What a Plough Is.”

 

Hamfast was such an easy-going hobbit when it came to inexperienced gardeners, it was odd to hear him speak with such a tone in regard to someone’s skill. Bilberry suspected someone had done or said something rather awful to evoke such a response.

 

“You’ve called me an amature before,” Bilberry pointed out, “do you think my care will be enough?”

 

“No.” Hamfast said honestly. “You’re better than the farmers of Dale, but you’re also pregnant. You can’t work the land in your current state, not the way it needs to be worked.”

 

“We have to do something.” Dis frowned. “Erebor and Dale both need the farms.”

 

“Erebor has coin to trade for food if we must.” Thorin suggested. 

 

Bilberry frowned. It was just as Balin had implied back at Beorn’s. They really hadn’t thought about this.

 

“You’ll get nothing fresh that way.” Hildegard grunted. “This far from another source? The quality will be diminished no matter how much you pay.”

 

“And Dale doesn’t have that option.” Bilberry added. 

 

“The elves?” Primula asked curiously.

 

The dwarves cringed at the idea, but surprisingly, it was Tauriel who responded. “The Greenwood is not what it once was. The corruption has affected the yields of their crops. Thranduil would never admit it, but the woods would not be able to support all three kingdoms for long.”

 

“Even if I thought he would agree,” Bilberry sighed, ”I would not ask Erebor to be so indebted unless there was no other option.”

 

“What about the hobbits?” Kili asked. “Could more of them come to Erebor to help?”

 

The grumbling and dismissive snorts from the Took clan spoke to their opinion of that plan, but Hamfast cleared his throat and waited for the other hobbits attentions before saying, “Begging pardon, but I have an idea about that.”

 

“Hamfast?” Bilberry encouraged.

 

“Seems to me, the Shire and the dwarves are becoming something of allies. A trade might benefit both parties. Not produce--food would never survive the journey--but I think an exchange of services could work. Young hobbits, ones less rooted, could spend time in Erebor working the land.”

 

“And in exchange, Erebor sends journeyman craftsmen to help the Shire.” Bilberry followed Hamfast’s train of thought. “The Blue Mountains might benefit from a trade of food for services and goods as well.”

 

Gerontius hummed thoughtfully and scratched his chin. “A formal alliance with another race hasn’t been done in the Shire. We’re largely self-sufficient and not much interested in affairs outside our borders.”

 

“That was before one of your princesses married a foreign king.” Fili pointed out.

 

“ _ Not a princess _ .” Bilberry growled. 

 

Her grandfather laughed at her obvious frustration. “Close enough, I think, and quite true that we’ve not had a cause such as this to ally with anyone. It is not… a bad idea.”

 

“Difficult for some to swallow, perhaps, but if I know tweens, there will be more than a few volunteers.” Isumbras nodded. 

 

“I can think of a few well suited for the task.” Hamfast agreed. 

 

“While we have you here, Thain, we should draft a formal treaty.” Dis suggested. 

 

“Yes. It will give me something to do while we wait for the wedding and birth.” Gerontius agreed.

 

“I would like to join you in the discussions, if I may.” Bilberry said. “I may too pregnant for gardening, but paperwork and such doesn’t sound too strenuous.”

 

Dis and Gerontius agreed and Thorin placed a pleased kiss on her head. She knew he was proud of her for doing this for Erebor, and it meant she wouldn’t spend quite so much time outside the mountain.

 

Later, when she asked about the argument, Thorin told Bilberry that he’d explained to Dis why he hadn’t present his First Gift yet. He asked for her patience and forgiveness for the delay, which Bilberry granted easily. She was curious, but she didn’t need a gift to know how Thorin felt. She could wait until it was ready. The plan, Dis informed her over tea one day, was to have Thorin present it to her when they wed, before the whole kingdom. Not that anyone would  _ know _ it was the First Gift--waiting so long was unheard of after all--but it was apparently important to both Durin siblings that the whole dwarven population witness the gift. Dis wouldn’t go into more detail, but Bilberry could see the pride in her eyes when she talked about it.

  
Since it would be many moons before the first exchange of hobbits to Erebor, and Hamfast needed help  _ now _ , several of Bilberry’s relatives volunteered to help in the meantime. The Tooks were gentle hobbits, like the Baggins’, but they were still fine gardeners, and a fair sight better at it than the humans of Dale nee Laketown.


	20. The Heart of the Mountain

Over the next several weeks there was an insane amount of activity in the mountain as the new dwarves settled in as best they were able. Reconstruction efforts more than quadrupled as Master stonemasons and builders joined the ranks. Focus was still primarily on residential areas, but teams were dedicated to the guild halls, markets, and mines as well. A small team of journeymen close to their master rank were sent to Dale to take over construction there as well. The hobbits were also making themselves known in the human city as Hamfast, Hildigard, Isumbras, Poppy, Rosa, Aldagrim, Alura, Isembold, Isembard, Flambard, Asphodel, Hugo, and Isengar all worked with the new farmers to prepare and restore as much land as possible for the planting season. Her remaining relatives--with the exception of Gerontius--helped Dis, Kili, and Balin plan the wedding. Thorin, Bilberry, and Gerontius discussed the treaty between Erebor and the Shire.

 

“The biggest problem with this exchange, that I can see, is the distance and what lies between the two.” Bilberry stated one night, rolling out a map that Balin had been kind enough to find for her. “Certainly,  _ our _ path here is not one I would recommend.”

 

“Only a small, very experienced group would be able to travel as we did.” Thorin agreed. “Dis wouldn’t take a caravan through the High Pass. Where did you cross?”

 

Gerontius consulted the map and pointed. “Here. From the East Road we moved up the Hoarwell River and crossed near the Cold Fells.”

 

“And you went around the forest entirely.” Bilberry tapped the Mirkwood. At the Old Took’s nod, she continued. “Good. The elf road through the forest is in too much disrepair, even if it could accommodate a large group, none would make it.”

 

Gerontius grunted. “We went north, stayed just on the south side of the Grey Mountains. Lady Dis said it was faster, and there were enough dwarves to keep the caravan safe.”

 

“Faster, but much more dangerous.” Thorin commented.

 

“I propose the southern route.” Bilberry stated. “Longer but safer, and more populated. Take the East Road as far as Rivendell, and then follow the Misty Mountains south to Redhorn Pass; according to everyone I’ve spoken to, Redhorn is easier to cross and is wide enough for a caravan.”

 

“Moria lies not far from that pass.” Thorin murmured. “That is not the safest place to be.”

 

Bilberry placed her hand gently on Thorin’s wrist as he glared at the map. She understood his hesitance; Thorin had lost almost his entire family at the Battle of Moria. “It is far enough that it should be safe, particularly if we can establish this route before the orcs and goblins can replenish their numbers.”

 

Thorin’s face shifted from his dark thoughts as he considered. “That’s true. It opens the possibility…” Eventually he nodded and said, “Continue, Agyâdê.”

 

“Follow the Gladden River to the River Anduin and follow that to the edge of Rohan, cross and then skirt around Mirkwood up to Laketown, Dale, and then Erebor. Lorien and Rohan lie to the South, near the edge of the Mirkwood. Erebor and Dale used to trade with the horse lords, if I’m not mistaken, and it couldn’t hurt to establish at least communication--if not trade--with the elves. If we establish a regular route, we could rekindle those relationships, and the road would be even safer as the Men protect it for trade.”

 

“That’s a ways to travel.” The Thain reflected. “Months on the road.”

 

“Yes, but it’s safe, and those that come will be guest of Erebor for at least a few years before they go back.” Bilberry stressed, reminding him of the previously agreed upon term of exchange.

 

Gerontius hummed thoughtfully as he reviewed her proposed path. 

 

“The dwarves of Erebor will be there every step of the way to keep the hobbits as safe as possible, but they are your people Gerontius.” Thorin asserted. “Ultimately it is up to you which path they follow.”

 

The Thain snorted. “I am not a king; my people trust me to keep them safe, and I have a degree of influence, but I do not give orders. It will be up to each hobbit individually to go or not go, but… This route, as you said, is the safest, and with a dwarven escort it will be even safer. It is acceptable.”

 

The new treaty was not the only formal discussion on Thorin’s schedule either. With the arrival of the caravan came the council, and thus council meetings. Fili and Balin joined him in these, but Bilberry was excused on account of being  _ enormously _ pregnant. Getting around was becoming a chore and her temper was shorter than she felt comfortable with addressing important council members. Thorin teased that her shorter temper was almost dwarven and the council likely wouldn’t notice, but he agreed to let her stay away.

 

Three weeks after arriving, Donnamira restricted Bilberry to bedrest and she was measured and checked daily to make sure the babe didn’t get too big. Donnamira wanted to let the child grow as much as was safe for mother and baby both, so she was careful to monitor both closely. Of course, as a result of this, it was unanimously agreed that the wedding wait for the child to be born. It gave them more time to plan, at least, and despite her concerns, no one made any comment about the child being born out of wedlock.

 

“And why would we?” Mirabella asked when Bilberry confessed her confusion. “You think this is the first time a child came before the wedding?”

 

“Of course not, but… it’s just not done in the Shire--”

 

“In Hobbiton.” Donnamira corrected. “I swear, the stuffiest hobbits all flocked to that province.”

 

“No one in Tuckborough or Buckland would have blinked, cousin.” Primula smiled. “Certainly happens often enough, doesn’t it?”

 

“Prim!” Bilberry laughed. “Just so long as you and Drogo don’t follow my horrible example.”

 

“Never, cousin.” Prim patted her hand affectionately.

 

Thorin finished the crib, a beautiful construction of metal and cloth in the shape of an acorn that brought a happy tear to Bilberry’s eye, and just in time. A week later, Donnamira declared it was time for the babe to be born. Bilberry was only a week past a standard hobbit pregnancy, but the midwives agreed the child was nearing an unsafe size. In preparation of this eventuality, Prim, Kili, and Dwalin were sent out to gather herbs that would induce the pregnancy, so Donnamira had them on hand when the time came. 

 

Kili, who had been nearly as constant a presence as Tauriel, was sent as a runner to fetch Thorin from his council meeting with the news that Bilberry was in labor when the herb took effect. The news spread quickly, it seemed, as others from the company were hot on Thorin’s heels to the healer’s wing.

 

Donnmira may have been a nearly a hand shorter than the dwarves, but she was a severe woman when it came to her job. The dwarves were suitably cowed by her stern glare and order to back off while they worked. Oin and Tauriel were the only two allowed in the room with the midwives until Thorin arrived. The king was allowed in only briefly, but Bilberry gave him a strained smile--the contractions weren’t anything to sneeze at--and accepted a tender kiss before Mirabella showed him out.

 

Labor was awful. Pain and weariness battled for dominance as the hours slipped by. Donnamira finally told her it was time to push and Bilberry clutched Prim’s hand as she tried to force what felt like a watermelon through a thimble. Vaguely she wondered if everyone on the other side of the door could hear her screaming and she hoped they wouldn’t worry too much. The screaming was normal, so she’d been told. More pushing, more screaming, calls for cloth to clean away blood, and pain _pain_ _PAIN,_ then… 

 

The tiny, shrill cry was the sweetest sound Bilberry had ever heard.

 

“It’s a girl.” Donnamira told her, handing a squalling bundle of cloth over into her care.

 

The rest of the room became completely irrelevant as she looked down at the baby in her arms. She had Bilberry’s green eyes, but a curly mop of her father’s raven black hair atop her head.

 

“Hello beautiful.” Bilberry whispered reverently.

 

Thorin had wanted to name their firstborn after his late brother, Frerin, and Bilberry had agreed. Knowing the chance the child could be a girl was higher than Thorin was expecting, she’d thought long and hard about a name that would honor Thorin’s wishes in case they had a daughter instead.

 

Mirabella let Thorin in at Bilberry’s nod and she flashed him a brilliant smile when he stepped in. The baby had finally settled down and was gurgling contentedly in her arms as he approached. 

 

“Thorin, meet Frera. Your daughter.”

 

He ran a gentle finger along the baby’s ever so slightly pointed ear and smiled. “She’s perfect.”

 

Bilberry could feel herself drifting to sleep and handed the baby to Thorin.

 

“Bilberry?”

 

“M’fine.” Talking was heavy.

 

“She’s still bleeding.” Donnamira swore. “Mira, show Thorin out and take care of the babe. Prim, Master Oin, I need clean cloths and water.”

 

Bilberry was only partially cognizant of the flurry of movement, but she tried her hardest to stay awake. If she could stay awake, she would be okay. Her natural Took stubbornness kept her conscious, if not coherent, while Donnamira and Oin got the bleeding under control. Once they announced they stopped the bleeding, Tauriel stepped up and placed her hands over Bilberry, murmuring in elvish. Whatever healing magic she cast, Bilberry felt much better as soon as it was done.

 

“Thank you.” She said gratefully. 

 

“A simple restoration. It’s all I could do, I’m afraid.” The elf bowed her head.

 

“More than enough.” Prim smiled. “She has color again.”

 

“Good. I’m too pale as it is.” Bilberry joked. “You should let them in before they break down the door.”

 

Sure enough, when Prim opened the door, Fili and Kili tumbled inside. Thorin and Dis both walked over them without hesitation to reach the bed. The brothers scrambled to their feet and joined them.

 

“You’re alright?” Thorin asked, tense.

 

“I’m fine.” Bilberry promised. “Just a little blood loss, no harm done.”

 

“Spoken like a true dwarf.” Dwalin grunted from the doorway. She could just see the rest of the company and her family packed in the hallway beyond.

 

Bilberry took her daughter when Thorin offered and cooed quietly when Frera smiled at her. Curious, she unwrapped the blanket around her wee feet and giggled at the tiny hobbit feet dusted with black hair.

 

“I suppose we’ll have to break it to the cobblers guild.” Kili tickled one exposed foot with a grin.

 

Mirabella shoved the brothers out when it was time for Bilberry to feed Frera for the first time, but the stream of visitors kept up as soon as she was done. The whole company and Dain made an appearance as did her various relatives and Hamfast. Anyone else was stopped at the door by Dwalin. Council members made a fuss, but when Fili and Dis stepped in as well, they backed down.

 

A formal announcement and introduction was in order, but Dis promised it wouldn’t be for a few days. They wanted Bilberry to be able to walk on her own first. In that time, Frera managed to get the whole company wrapped around her tiny finger. They fought--well away from the baby--for who got to hold her next. Thorin alway won by default, until Dis ordered him to stop hoarding the child and  _ share _ .

 

After the formal introduction of Frera to the court, there was a huge party. A child of Durin was a blessing, a daughter doubly so, and everyone celebrated. Bilberry wondered if the wedding and coronation would be as big a festival, and Fili and Kili were quick to promise it would be bigger, laughing at her slightly horrified expression.

 

Planning for the wedding went quickly after Frera was born. Now that they were no longer waiting for an uncertain date and could actively plan for the event, everything fell into place. A royal wedding was an Event though, so enough time had to be given for all the invited dignitaries to arrive. Thorin grumbled, but among those dignitaries were the elves of both Mirkwood and Rivendell. 

 

“They might not come, but we do have to invite them.” She insisted. “It’s polite.”

 

Thorin grumbled some more but signed the invitation when she handed it to him.

 

The wedding finally arrived and Bilberry almost couldn’t believe it. It hadn’t been so long ago that she’d resigned herself to be a spinster for the rest of her days, but now she was a mother and getting married to the finest man she’d ever met. Dis and Tauriel--who had become surprising friends--helped Bilberry and little Frera get ready for the ceremony. The dress had been designed and tailored by Dori and actually made her feel like the princess Fili and Kili kept calling her. The dress for Frera was adorable, though she didn’t know if it would survive the infant through the evening. 

 

“You know,” Dis comment idly as she brushed Bilberry’s hair, “there will be… expectations once you’re officially Queen of Erebor.”

 

“I know.” Bilberry smiled at her sister-in-law, “Thorin was ecstatic when I agreed to act as official diplomat to the other races, and he and Balin are teaching me as much as they can about dealing with council meetings.” 

 

“Good, but that is not what I meant.”

 

Bilberry sighed, “The farmlands of Dale will benefit from Hamfast’s exchange idea. I wish I could do more, but Thorin says it wouldn’t really send the right message if I joined the others in the planting.”

 

“He’s right, but also not what I meant.” Dis gave her an amused glare in the mirror.

 

“Fili’s still the heir, and even if he weren’t, I’ve already proven I can continue the line.”

 

“You are being purposefully stubborn.” Tauriel chided. 

 

Bilberry glared at her friend, “I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“You will need to acquire ladies in waiting from the noble families.” Dis stated. “It’s expected and not something to be ignored. The noble families will see it as a grievous insult if you refuse.”

 

“Yavanna’s Mercy.” She swore. “Do I really have to?”

 

“Yes.” Dis told her firmly. “There are many benefits, foremost of which will be appeasement of the traditionalists.”

 

“How many do I need?” Bilberry asked, resigned.

 

“I think three will be enough for now.” Dis tweaked her nose. “But not me.”

 

Bilberry frowned. “Fine, but if I’m going to be followed around at all times, they might as well be put to good use. Tauriel?”

 

“Yes, My Lady?” The elf teased. She knew how much Bilberry hated being referred to in the honorific. 

 

“You’re about to get some more recruits. All ladies in waiting will also be members of the Queen’s Guard; might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

 

“An interesting idea.” Dis murmured. “I like it, thought I doubt everyone will.”

 

“You can’t please everyone.” Bilberry shrugged. “I trust Tauriel’s judgment to pick candidates and anyone who works with me is going to have to accept that I hold no prejudices and neither will I tolerate them.”

 

At last she was ready and it was time for the ceremony. The fusion of dwarven and hobbit traditions was surprisingly elegant once it was put together. The flower streamers were laced with wire of precious metal and looped gracefully around the high pillars of the throne room, catching light, throwing color, and brightening up the grey stone. Neither she nor Thorin would wear a flower crown; dwarven tradition--in this one aspect--took absolute precedence. As it was a royal wedding, they would would wear crowns of their stations. Bilberry hoped hers wouldn’t be too gaudy or heavy. Her dress was a mesh of cultures as well; proper heavy velvets for the mountain chill, long sleeved and a square neckline, but with delicate embroidery and lace in the skirt that was just a few inchees past her knees in hobbit style. Thorin was, of course, in dwarven garb befitting a king and he looked achingly handsome as Bilberry made her way down the aisle toward him. 

 

The throne room was packed with dwarves, hobbits--the Took clan took up a lot of space after all--and dignitaries from neighboring and far flung cities. Legolas, Elrond, and the twins were all present, as well as Bard and his family, and standing out, as only a wizard can, was Gandalf. She was so pleased to see all of them, but her gaze couldn’t stray from Thorin for long.

 

The ceremony was in common rather than Khuzdul and included both the hobbit handfasting and the dwarven exchange of vows. The ribbon used for the handfasting was Durin blue silk with dwarven runes embroidered in silver thread, weighted with gemstones on both ends. Balin spoke the blessing of the handfasting that Gerontius had provided as he wrapped both of their hands with the ribbon, and then--by hobbit standards--they were married! Bilberry’s cheeks hurt she was smiling so much. The ceremony wasn’t done yet, though. There was still the exchanging of vows according to dwarven tradition. She’d fretted over writing her own vows, but she was happy with what she’d come up with.

 

“You asked me once why a hobbit would leave the comfort and safety of the Shire to help a company of dwarrow she didn’t know face down a dragon. I told you it was because your company had given me a brief taste of what home should be. Laughter, music, life, love. With you by my side I laugh every day, my heart sings, I enjoy life, and I have the unwavering love of my One and only. You are my home, Thorin son of Thrain, and there is no where I’d rather be than here with you.”

 

It took a moment for Thorin to compose himself enough to say his own vows, but when it was his turn, he smiled at her and there was mischievous glint in his eye that made her at once concerned and excited. When Thorin decided to cause mischief, it was usually on a grand scale.

 

“My One, words alone cannot do you and what you mean to me justice. You have given me everything. A kingdom, a child, a place at your side. As a Queen you have given Erebor peace with our neighbors, a future of prosperous trade, a place in your heart.” At this Thorin reached over to Fili, who was holding a box. Thorin lifted the lid and removed a delicate crown from within. The white-silver metal--platinum, she’d learn later--arched elegantly in dwarven spires, twined with intricate lines of gold, rose gold, and copper to look like vines growing up the spires. In the middle of the center spire and at the base of the others rested iridescent jewels… the Arkenstone! He’d broken it and used the pieces to craft her crown, her First Gift. He placed the crown upon her head; it fit perfectly. “This mountain has untold treasure, gleaming gemstones and piles of gold, but none of them are as precious as you, Bilberry Baggins, Queen of Erebor. You are the true Heart of the Mountain.”

  
The murmuring and whispers of the crowd grew as they realized exactly what had just been said, and the word spread quickly. Before it got out of control, Dwalin silenced the room with one sharp word in Khuzdul. Balin continued with the ceremony and  _ at last _ Bilberry and Thorin were married. Balin said one final thing in the dwarven tongue and the Hall erupted in joyous cheers as Thorin pulled her in for a kiss. When they broke apart, Dis handed Frera to Bilberry and the three of them walked down the aisle as the Royal Family of Erebor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Just the epilogue left y'all!_


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Here it is my lovelies. The final chapter for Song of Exile. Enjoy!_

A few days after the wedding, Gandalf found Bilberry while she was playing with Frera in her study. The wizard smiled warmly at her and the baby and nodded politely to Tauriel. “Congratulations, my dear.” Gandalf leaned against his staff as he watched Bilberry and the baby.

 

She smiled at him, “Thank you. For everything, Gandalf.”

 

The wizard sighed, “I did very little, and it seems to me,  _ you _ have done far more than even I expected.”

 

“I doubt it was your intent to play matchmaker.” Bilberry agreed with a smirk.

 

“You’ve certainly been busy. Survivor of the Battle of the Five Armies, Ambassador, founder of the Queen’s Route--”

 

“They aren’t calling it that, are they?” She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

 

“And finder of artifacts of power.” Gandalf finished with a significant look.

 

Bilberry then realized Frera had pulled the fine chain that held the ring from out of her shirt and was gumming away happily on the gold band. Bilberry pried it gently from her daughter’s fingers while the baby giggled.

 

“Gandalf, I…” Bilberry stammered, embarrassed.

 

“Rings of power are not to be trifled with Bilberry Baggins. It helped you escape the goblin tunnels, so I let it be, but Tauriel tells me you wore it for weeks while evading detection in the elfking’s palace.”

 

Bilberry shot Tauriel a look.

 

“I am Captain of the Queen’s Guard, and your friend, I only have your best interests at heart.” Tauriel replied without remorse.

 

“Yes, fine.” She sighed. “I haven’t worn it in months Gandalf. It’s just a trinket.”

 

“No mere trinket would allow you to turn entirely invisible, nor affect your mind that you would covet it the way you do.”

 

She scoffed, “I don’t--”

 

He held out his hand and raised his brows expectantly and Bilberry flinched. She didn’t want to give it to him. Didn’t see why she should. He hadn’t fought--alone and injured--for it the way she had. It was  _ hers _ .

 

A shrill cry made Bilberry look to her daughter in her arms. She’d clutched Frera to her chest too hard while she’d been looking at Gandalf’s hand. Immediately, she tore the ring off her neck and held it away from her daughter. Had she really hurt her child for this thing? What foul power did it have over her?

 

“Gandalf?” She whimpered. 

 

The wizard eyed the ring on the chain carefully. “Tauriel, fetch an envelope, would you?”

 

The elf did as he asked and returned quickly. Gandalf pulled the chain from Bilberry’s grip--even now she was reluctant to part with it--and dropped ring and chain into the waiting envelope. As soon as it was out of her hands, Bilberry shook from exhaustion. It had taken nearly everything in her to part with the cursed thing.

 

“What is it?” She demanded.

 

“I don’t know. Not for sure.” Gandalf said. “But I intend to find out. In the meantime, you must keep it secret. Keep it safe.”

 

“You’re not taking it with you?”

 

“I dare not. Not until I know for sure.” Gandalf lamented. “It will be safe here, if you keep it locked away.”

 

Bilberry nodded and took the envelope from the wizard hesitantly. Thankfully, she wasn’t overcome with a need to take it out and put it back around her neck. She tucked the envelope away in her mother’s glory box and shut the lid firmly.

 

“You know, I never said  _ I _ found the Arkenstone.” Bilberry remarked, hoping to lighten the mood.

 

Gandalf huffed. “For the best. If the lords discovered the truth, there would likely be even more discussion of the Stone’s fate.”

 

Bilberry quite liked her crown. It was beautiful and the sentiment behind it even more so. “They should be happy it appeared at all. I was ready to lock it away forever until Thorin asked to see it again.”

 

“Again?”

 

“Hmm? Oh, yes. He saw it on Ravenhill after I’d hit Azog with it.” She winced at the memory. “Distracted the orc long enough to let Thorin get the upper hand, but I’m afraid I cracked it in the process.”

 

“Quite the arm, my lady.” Tauriel smirked.

 

“Or Azog’s had an exceptionally hard skull. Either way.” Bilberry dismissed. “Thorin picked it up off the ice and gave it back to me before nearly dying from his wounds.”

 

“Indeed?” Gandalf mused. “I am beginning to think I have… underestimated Thorin Oakenshield.”

 

Bilberry shot him a look. “I told you. You give them all too little credit.”

 

“Or perhaps you simply bring out the best in them.” Gandalf countered, stubborn as ever. 

 

Bilberry feared she’d never get Gandalf to see the dwarves the way she did, but he was quite old and set in his ways. It was not likely the opinion of a lowly hobbit would change the mind of a great wizard after millennia of thinking, after all, but she could and would make sure he spoke to them and of them with respect while in her presence.

 

“Where is your king?” Gandalf asked, as if he had just realized Thorin was not here.

 

“He is in a meeting with Dain and the other lords. Apparently being a king is less about mighty deeds and more about boring meetings.” Bilberry said, carefully leaving out what the meeting was about. She didn’t know whether or not Gandalf would approve, but she didn’t feel like taking a chance that he wouldn’t. 

 

“The uproar from the Queen’s Crown has not yet died down, nor do I think it will for some time. Great change does not come swiftly or easily very often.” Gandalf acknowledge. With a great sigh, he gathered himself and gave her and the baby a gentle hug. “I will be back as soon as I learn more of the ring, my dear. Tell no one, not even Thorin.”

 

Reluctantly, she nodded, and then he was out the door.

 

The years that followed were heralded as a new Golden Age for the dwarves. A combined force of Erebor, Iron Hills, and Blue Mountain soldiers retook Moria while the ancient halls were relatively free of goblins and orcs. Dain’s son, Thorin III, was chosen as new Lord of Moria, and groups from all three kingdoms left to restore the original seat of Durin. Bilberry thanked every god and star in the sky that none of the company decided to leave. She would miss them far too much.

 

The first season’s harvest was minimal, but with the help of Hamfast and the Tooks there was more than Dale and Erebor had expected. Erebor imported the rest of the food they required from the elves that year, and the visiting hobbits made haste back to the Shire for more support. Following the Queen’s Route, thirty some hobbits made their way to Erebor for the first exchange. With years of care and dedication, the hobbits made great progress with the desolation, turning it into living, growing ground once more. 

 

Trade also flourished with the growing popularity of the Queen’s Route. Dale and Erebor grew in leaps and bounds as their reputations were restored, and soon it wasn’t just hobbits visiting the East.

 

Tauriel and Kili courted and married within five years of the reclamation of Erebor, and Kili was placed as second in command of the King’s Guard, set to take over as Captain when Dwalin eventually retired--though that would not happen for many decades yet. In that five years, Bilberry and Thorin welcomed a son to the family as Worin was born. He was smaller than his sister had been, born naturally closer to the normal hobbit ten months, but he looked so much like his father--aside from the feet, of course. Frera was happy to have a baby brother, but promptly demanded a baby sister. It wouldn’t be for another five years, but little Frera would get her wish. When Bilberry found she was pregnant with twins, Thorin sent a raven to the Shire for the best midwife available to make the trip. Primula answered the call, along with Drogo and baby Frodo, and arrived with that year’s exchange group. The pregnancy lasted 45 weeks and the only reason Prim allowed so much time to pass was because, as twins, the babies were smaller. The labor was still very difficult, and while Bilberry had promised six, Thorin said that four children was more than enough and he would not put her at such risk again. The twins, a boy, Thorvir, and a girl, Amber, looked very dwarven and neither sported the hobbitish feet of their siblings, and it became clear over time that they seemed to age closer to the dwarven standard rather than the hobbitish one that Frera and Worin did. 

 

It would be a few decades before trouble found its way into their lives again, and, as always, it would begin with a visit from a wizard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I do intend to write the next installment that covers the events of the Lord of the Rings in this 'verse, but that will not be for some time. I have just a few too many other projects currently on going, and--like the originals--it promises to be an epic._
> 
> _Hope you've enjoyed Bilberry and the gang as much as I have! Your comments and Kudos have always brightened my day!_

**Author's Note:**

> _This story is completely written, and will post probably twice a week. I'm thinking Sundays and Wednesdays._


End file.
